FourHour Drive
by hamgsrship
Summary: The case involves a four-hour drive to a tiny town in the middle of the desert, but when Grissom and Sara have to spend the night, their stay in a rackety old motel pushes them to takes steps they weren't counting on. Season Five-pre-Committed.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter One

Grissom needed someone to accompany him to a small town nearly four hours north. The problem was that Warrick and Nick were working a triple homicide and Catherine and Greg were investigating a possible kidnapping. That left only Sophia and Sara, and considering that Sophia had left on a four-day break, he had no choice but to alert Sara of their journey. He knew she wasn't looking forward to the thought of it as she stared at him blankly then snatched the paper with the location from his hand and started toward her locker to get her extra clothing she would need for an overnight venture.

Within half an hour, they were in the Denali and heading out of the city, neither saying a word as they sat uncomfortably on their separate sides of the vehicle. After nearly two hours, he suggested they stop at the next rest stop and she agreed with a simple "fine," and fourteen miles down the road he pulled into a diner that had seen much better days. They both visited the restroom with him returning to the dining area moments before her. He chose a table near the corner and looked at the menu that a waitress that could have been named "Flo" but wore a name tag reading "Marg." He wondered how many pieces of gum it would take to make a wad the size that she was chomping in her mouth when Sara approached the table and tried to wait inconspicuously as Marg tried her best to impress Grissom with her feminine wiles. Finally, Sara moved around her.

"Excuse me," she mumbled as she slid into the booth across from Grissom.

"Oh, I'm sorry, honey," Marg said with a distinct south-western accent. "I didn't see a little thing like you standin' there. What can I get for ya?"

Sara looked across the table at Grissom who was still looking at the menu. "What are "you" getting?"

"Coffee and a turkey club." He handed the menu back to Marg, then looked over at Sara.

"I'll take an unsweetened ice tea. Do you have any Splenda?"

"We have Equal. Will that do?"

"Yes. That's fine."

"What can I get ya to eat, sweetie? You look like you could use some meat on those bones."

Sara stared at the woman a moment. "Thanks—Marg. I'll keep that in mind. But, I think I'll just take the iced tea."

"Okay, Sweetie. Whatever floats yer boat."

"Thank you," Sara commented as Marg returned to the cooking area and handed in the order for Grissom's turkey club sandwich.

"She's probably right, ya know," Grissom told her. "You really should get something to eat. We're only halfway there. I don't think this town is known for its fast food joints—so it may be the last meal you'll have tonight."

"No, thank you."

"Suit yourself." He turned his gaze out the window at the desert surrounding them, not wanting to simply sit there and look at her, that was too risky. He had made a habit lately of "not" doing that, for his own salvation. But when he looked back at her, he found her gaze upon him. The fact that it wasn't exactly on his face intrigued him and as he saw what she was looking at, he wondered just what she found so interesting about his hands and forearms. "Something wrong?"

"Hmm?" She looked up at him quickly, a bit of embarrassment in her cheeks. "No, why would there be anything wrong?"

"I just thought there was something on my jacket that I might've rubbed into." When he received a questioning look, he added, "You were staring at my hands and arms."

"No—I. . .," she started as she looked down at her own hands. "I guess I was just deep in thought, that's all."

"Care to talk about it?"

"I don't think the color of my living room walls would be of much interest to you." She smiled slightly then looked back out through the window.

"You're remodeling?"

She shrugged her shoulders. "I was thinking about it. Depends."

"On what?" he asked as Marg poured him a cup of coffee.

"I guess on how long I plan to be here. It's starting to look a little ratty, but there's no sense painting the walls if I won't be staying." She accepted the glass of iced tea that was sat in front of her.

"You're looking around for a new apartment?"

"No," she started slowly, waiting for Marg to deposit his turkey club in front of him, then walk away. "I'm not looking for a new apartment. At least not around here, anyway."

"Then where?" When she didn't answer, he went on. "Sara?"

She shrugged her shoulders and looked out the window again. "I'd rather not talk about it right now."

"You'll let me know when you "are" ready to discuss it, won't you?" He asked a bit snidely. "Information like that might come in handy when I'm assigning cases to the crew and I'm one short."

She looked back at him, her lips quivering in an attempt to control her emotions that were showing plainly on her face. Again, she toyed with her glass of tea.

"You'll be the first one to know," she said quietly, then after a moment of silence, as he was chewing a mouthful of sandwich, she went on. "Why did you assign me to come with you on this case?"

He looked at her as he chewed and eventually swallowed. "Because it's your job."

"I mean—why me? Why not one of the other guys?"

"They were busy. You weren't. Is there a problem? If you're having a problem with this assignment—let me know now, and I'll have someone come and pick you up, and hopefully have a replacement sent by tomorrow."

"Like Sophia?"

Grissom sat a little straighter as he looked at his food. "Sophia isn't in the area. She had a four-day break and went away."

Sara gave a single nod, then moved to get up from the booth. "I'll work the case. I'm not going to have a problem with it."

He watched her move out the door and wait by the truck. He put his sandwich down on his plate, having lost his appetite, and drank some of his coffee. He left some bills on the table to cover the cost of the order then went outside and got into the truck. He knew that the next two hours couldn't pass fast enough for him. At least once they got to the town, they would be busy working, and when they wouldn't be working, they'd be staying in separate rooms at the motel. Until then, he'd have to put up with a long, silent, ride.

Grissom and Sara had been working on finding the remains of a young woman, then processing their evidence, all night and most of the morning. They knew they'd have to continue with the investigation, but at this point, they were both extremely tired and were at a standstill until the lab back in Vegas could gather some information and fax it to them. They were looking at perhaps four hours or more until it would be collected and passed on.

So, in the meantime, they thought some rest and a shower would do them both some good. They drove to the other end of town, more out of the need to have the truck close to them than the need to actually ride as the town was so small they could practically throw a rock from one end to the other. As he looked at the building, he couldn't stop himself from looking off in the distance for a creepy old house on a hill with an old woman sitting at the window. He half-expected Norman Bates to greet him when he pulled open the noisy screen door to the motel office, but was met by an older man who looked about as menacing as a newborn puppy.

"Hi," Grissom said to the man as Sara waited for him outside, on the wooden sidewalk. "I have a reservation for Grissom and Sidle."

The man grunted and pulled a key from behind the counter and handed it to him.

"Number nine," he told him in a gravelly voice as Grissom stood waiting, making the gentleman repeat himself. "I said room nine. It's just out the door and down nine rooms. Kinda easy to figure that one out."

"But there are two of us. I reserved two rooms. Where's the other key?"

"There is no other key. Someone called last night and said they wanted a room for Grissom and Sidle. That's what ya got."

"I "meant" a room for each of us. We'll need another room," he told him but only received a laugh from the man.

"Well, good luck getting one. You're lucky you got that one. This place is completely booked."

"Come on," Grissom said with disbelief. "There aren't even this many people living in the whole town—and you expect me to believe that you got a big crowd of tourists overnight?"

"Yep. Old Man Phillips passed over a few days ago. He's getting quite a send-off, between all his kids and grandkids, and anyone else who thinks they might be in his will. So, like I said, you're lucky there was a room left at all. Take it or leave it."

"Yeah, I'm lucky alright," Grissom grumbled as he started back out of the office, not looking forward to Sara's ire when she found out they had to share a room. "Remind me to thank Old Man Phillips."

"Can't," he called after him as the screen door banged closed behind him. "He's dead!"


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

Sara stared at him, wondering why she wasn't the least bit surprised that they were stuck sharing a room. She was sweaty, smelly, grimy, and knew that this would be fate's revenge on her to make it the only time in her life that she would ever share a room with Gilbert Grissom. Without a word, she took the key from him and started down the boarded walk, feeling more and more as if she should be wearing stirrups and a ten-gallon hat. Well, one thing she knew for sure, she was getting the shower first! There was no way she wanted to sit in a dank motel room, feeling the way she feels, while he's getting himself all cleaned up and comes out to join her smelling good, looking great, and comparing her to the blonde bitch he can't seem to peel himself from back at the lab. If she had to be compared to Sophia Curtis, at least she wanted to be clean.

She didn't feel bad in the least when she told him he could bring in their duffel bags while she showered, so when she heard the bathroom door open and saw a bottle of her shampoo handed in to her, she wasn't surprised. She took her time as she allowed the heat of the water to beat down on the tired muscles of her back, then when the temperature began to cool, she finally turned it off and stepped out before wrapping the large towel around herself. She towel-dried her hair then looked around for her bag of clothes but found none. When she opened the door that enclosed the toilet and tub/shower, she saw her bag on the suitcase rack in the small room where the sink and mirror was located. Well, at least she had most of a wall to conceal her from the sleeping area, she thought, then went about pulling her clothes out that she was going to wear for the evening. She looked in the mirror at her reflection and saw how dried out she looked from working all day in the desert sun. That would be readily fixed as she pulled out some lip balm, then applied body lotion to her arms and legs. She took her time, allowing her massage to ease sore, tired muscles, then after a quick hand-comb of her hair, got dressed and moved around the wall to find Grissom sitting in a chair on the other side of the two double beds occupying the room.

"It's all yours," she told him, seeing that he already had his clean clothes out of his bag as he held them on his lap. "Grissom? You can take a shower now."

Grissom had gone through Sara's bag to find anything she might need while she was in the shower, then grabbed her bottle of shampoo and took it to her. When she told him to hand the bottle to her, he intended only to place it in her hand, then exit the bathing area so he could get his own toiletries together. He was tired and felt like a pig. All he wanted at this point was to clean himself up and lie down to rest for several hours. But, for some reason, when he reached toward the opaque shower curtain, the blurred sight of her body on the other side held him mesmerized. He couldn't seem to turn away as he watched her shampooing her hair, then go on to rub her hands over the rest of her body as she cleansed it. He always knew it would be absolutely beautiful, something that if he ever caught sight of, he couldn't forget. And, he always knew this was one reason he guarded himself from her. The danger of getting lost inside her was too great.

Finally, he seemed to snap out of it as she moved to turn off the water, so he slowly closed the door and moved back to the sleeping area. He busied himself by going through his bag and getting out the clothes and toiletries he would need in his shower, then he went to the chair and sat down, leaning his head back and closing his eyes in an attempt to try to remove the image of her behind a shower curtain from his mind. It was the sound of her going through her bag that opened his eyes, and then he noticed how he could see her perfectly as she stood in front of the mirror. Jesus! But she was even more beautiful than he had imagined, and over the years, he had imagined quite a lot. The natural way her wet hair fell was more of a turn on than any hair style that money could buy. When he watched her anoint her lips with the balm, he felt a twinge in his groin, and when she moved on with the body lotion, he tightened immediately.

"It's all yours," she said as she entered the room with him, but he was afraid to move. What if she saw what was hidden beneath his pile of clothes? "Grissom? You can take a shower now."

Sara kept her eyes on her duffel bag as Grissom got up and moved into the shower behind her. She saw the irritation he wore on his face as soon as she came from the bathroom. She wasn't prepared to put up with someone who didn't want to be with her, and openly was showing it. She suspected that he had been thinking about his new lady-love while she was in the shower and he had time to relax. She saw the way he was watching her as she came into the bedroom and she knew he wasn't in a good mood; probably wishing it was Sophia coming from the shower and extremely disgruntled because if was only her—Sara Sidle—lap dog to Gil Grissom. All he has to do is snap his fingers and whistle and there she is, practically running to do his bidding, and yet he wouldn't allow himself to go the extra step and take what he keeps asking for. Hadn't he told the doctor, last year, that he couldn't give everything up for her. And yet, when she watches him with Sophia, it seems as if that is exactly what he was doing. Evidently he could risk everything for the blond, but not Sara. She wished she could stop herself, she really did. All she ever got from him was pain, and she wasn't going to allow him to torture her with his grumpiness through the night. She might have to sleep in the same room as him, but she didn't have to simply sit there and watch him pining over Sophia. He was going to have to entertain himself while they were there. She, on the other hand, was going to lose herself in her novel. That is, if she could "find" her novel.

"Dammit!"

She stopped searching through her bag and realized it must have fallen out onto the Denali's floor, so she glanced down at bare feet and decided that she didn't need to put her boots on just to dart out to the truck for her lost book.

She pulled the door to number nine open and looked out at the night air. It was so quiet. The only sound she could hear was distant cars from a faraway highway and the buzz of the streetlights that lead to the old motel. She got her book and started back toward the room but stopped on the boards of the walkway, turning to look at the lightning in the distance. It was still so far away that there were no signs of thunder, only quick flashes and a slow wind that would eventually bring the storm to her. There was almost something peaceful about the way the air weighed on her as she leaned up against the four-by-four pillar that was holding the roof over her; so peaceful, in fact, that she got lost in her thoughts.

She wondered what Grissom was doing at the moment. The thought of his powerful body beneath the jets of the shower made her breath catch in her throat. She imagined him rubbing soap over his arms. God! Those arms! She loved to look at his arms; they were absolutely gorgeous and, oh, how she would just melt if she were ever held by them. She thought about the soap going to his chest; a chest that she would love to investigate, then lower to his stomach.

Breathe! One, two, three—okay, take a breath now! The image of her sliding her soap-covered hands over his stomach and around to his perfect buttocks and thighs suddenly made her feel as if her heart was going to beat out of her chest.

She didn't know which hit her first, the first spatters of rain that had snuck up on her while she was lost in her thoughts, or the hand that landed on her shoulder; also having snuck up on her. She jumped and let out a sound that was a combination of a yelp and a groan as she turned and jumped at the same time. Her footing got tangled and she went down on the ground with a thud and her book went flying about ten feet away from where she landed.

"Holy shit! Don't do that!" Sara half-yelled at the now freshly showered Grissom.

The rain suddenly changed from heavy splatters to a downpour that had her scampering to get to her feet, but as she turned in circles in search of her book, the ground was quickly turning to mud.

"Sara!" Grissom yelled through the pelting rain as he watched her from beneath the porch roof. "What the hell are you doing? Get in here!"

"My book! I dropped my book!"

"Over there! By the tire of the truck!"

Sara pounced on it and turned in a dead run back toward the boarded walkway, but when she jumped onto the wood, her foot slipped and she skidded across the floor and over the other side. She felt the immediate pain of something sharp going into the back of her thigh on one leg and the bruising crash that her shin of her other leg made against the edge of the porch. She landed back out in the mud with a resounding "oomph" and then another yelp as she was lifted to her feet and ushered back through the door into room number nine. Grissom slammed the door closed and turned to look at her. Both legs hurt in various areas, she was soaked to the bone and her book was nearly ruined, but when she looked at how Grissom stood in front of her, dripping water from his drenched clothes and hair, she couldn't stop the giggles that bubbled up inside her.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

"Oh, you find this amusing," Grissom said blandly as he wiped his hand over his face to get the rain out of his eyes.

"Sorry," she said, but continued to giggle.

"What the hell were you thinking, standing out in the middle of a thunderstorm?" he asked irritably as he realized that the clothes he had just put on were now so wet that they clung to him.

"Well—what the hell were you thinking, sneaking up behind someone and grabbing them in the middle of a thunderstorm?" She still couldn't hide her smile.

"I didn't realize I was "sneaking," he said indignantly, then looked over at her, seeing how the tee-shirt she was wearing was now translucent, sticking to her breasts and stomach like a second skin.

He knew he should get her something dry to put on, but couldn't seem to raise his gaze above her shoulders. The sight of her round breasts with rigid nipples sent a jolt through him. She seemed to realize what he was looking at as she suddenly covered herself by crossing her arms over her chest and her smile faded away.

"You're—you're getting the carpet all wet," she said quietly as she began to shiver.

He finally looked at her face, sensing that the air conditioning in the room was making her cold as it met with her wet clothes. He inhaled deeply, taking in the fresh, yet heavy scent of the rain; its earthiness adding to the sense of tenseness he was beginning to feel close in on him. He took a step toward her, his hand itching to reach out and cup the perfection he saw before him, but instead he grabbed a towel that he handed to her. He stood on the linoleum of the bathroom area as the water from his clothes pooled at his feet, and he watched as she held the towel in front of her chest and continued to look at him.

"You better put on some dry clothes."

He turned and looked at his own dry clothes that were in his duffel bag and pulled out a pair of jeans and a button-down shirt. His other clothes were filthy to the point of nearly standing up and walking away on their own. He ran his hand over his neck as he tried to think of a solution to his dilemma, finally turning around when he heard the splat of her tee-shirt and shorts being tossed past him into the sink. The sight of her only wearing a towel invited his inspection as he looked from her muddy feet up over her legs and body then to her huge chocolate eyes as she stared back at him.

"I—don't have any other clothes, except my dirty ones, and I'm not going to sleep in them—they're so stained and smelly, I'm probably going to end up throwing them away."

"Great," he breathed, then tossed his clean shirt to her. "Put this on. We'll make due until our other clothes dry."

He started to peel his tee-shirt over his head and dropped it into the sink with her clothing then dried the top part of himself with another towel. He noticed her move farther back in the bedroom so she couldn't be seen, so he peeled off his pants, dried his legs, then pulled on the jeans.

"Here," Sara moved to hand him the towel she had been wearing, then retrieved the wet clothes and gave them to him as he spread them over the shower curtain rod so they'd dry. "I don't suppose they have a Laundromat somewhere around here."

"Wait until the rain slows down, then I'll go ask the manager."

"I wonder how long that will be." She looked at the clock, then started into the sleeping area, but he noticed a slight limp. "I'll check the Weather Channel, maybe it'll say how long the storm should last."

"Sara?"

He entered the room behind her and turned on a brighter light as she turned on the television. He glanced at the screen as news of a severe thunderstorm warning and flash flood alert were announced.

"It doesn't sound like it's going to end anytime soon," Sara told him.

He moved closer to her as he looked down toward her feet that were now wiped clean of the mud, and he noticed the abrasion and already darkening bruise on her shin.

"Are you alright?" He asked as he took her arm and ushered her toward the chair by the windows.

"I'm fine," she told him.

"Sit down. You skinned your leg. I'll grab my kit and put some antibiotic on it."

He held onto her, although it wasn't necessary, as she lowered herself onto the seat, but when she hit the cushion, she jerked herself back onto her feet.

"Ouch! Damn!" She looked up at him with large eyes as her hand automatically went to the back of her leg, near her buttocks.

"What's wrong?" Without hesitation, he turned her around, but when he thoughtlessly tried to lift the shirt to inspect what the problem was, she held it in place and stepped away from him.

"I don't know—but it hurts." She looked at him again as her fingers gingerly touched the area in question. "It's—up close to my butt. It—feels big."

He smiled as he looked at her. "What feels big? Your butt? Or your injury?"

She gave him a "very-funny" look. "Both, actually. No, seriously, something's wrong."

He nodded his head in understanding, then moved her toward the bed. "Lie down. I'll keep you covered as best as I can."

Looking at him doubtfully, she finally did as he commanded and moved onto her stomach, still holding the tail of his shirt over her buttocks as she went down. He moved the shirt out of the way, seeing the problem that started about three inches onto the back of her thigh and traveled upward toward the roundness of her right cheek for about two and a half inches. At the sound of his groan, she turned her head to look at him.

"What is it?"

"You got a splinter when you slid off the porch—and yes, it's rather large."

"Can you pull it out?"

"It won't be easy—but at this point, I don't want to leave it in there. I take it, you're up to date on your tetanus."

"Yes," she said warily as she watched him go to his duffel bag and remove a first aid kit.

When he came back to her, he opened the kit and placed it on the bed. She watched from her position on her stomach as he cleaned some tweezers, opened a bee sting pad and removed what looked to be a scalpel. When her gaze moved to his face he gave her a reassuring smile.

"It's got to be the biggest one I ever removed from someone who wasn't lying on a slab in the morgue. I'm going to try to numb it with this swab, but it's going to hurt no matter what I do."

She nodded her head in understanding, then grabbed a pillow and pulled it down to hold onto. "Does this mean I'll be eligible for workman's comp?"

"I don't know that trying to retrieve a romance novel is considered "work" but I'll see what I can do." Even anticipating his touch, the cold swab meeting her thigh made her jerk in surprise. "Let me do it this way—I'm going to tape several swabs to the back of your leg, then I'll turn you over and bandage your shin. That should give us time for it to get as numb as possible, okay?"

Sara slowly nodded her head. He was amazed at the amount of trust she was showing in him. He wasn't sure he'd be able to lie in the same position and allow someone to practically do a minor surgery on him. It took several moments to get enough swabs together to satisfy him, then he pressed the tape to her, trying to touch as little of her as possible. Even without feeling the smoothness of her skin, the sight of the crease where buttocks met thigh was sending minor shockwaves through him that he wasn't expecting. He was removing a splinter, for Christ's sake! Nothing more! As she turned onto her back, she covered the area that drew his attention even though he tried to avoid it as he knelt at the end of the bed and prepared another bandage with antibiotic ointment, then gently pressed it over her bruised and torn shin. He nodded to her, to alert her that she should turn back onto her stomach, and after checking out his alternatives, he decided to put the equipment he would need on the bed next to her hip, and situate himself on the mattress as he straddled her calves

"Are—you expecting me to kick? Is that why you're sitting there?"

"I can reach it easier this way—and—yes, just in case you decide to kick, this should hold you down until I'm finished."

"O-okay."

He watched as she turned her head so that she was nearly facedown on the pillow and her hands grasped onto its edges with a force that made him happy it wasn't him that she was holding onto. He took a deep breath, then moved the tail of the shirt up, exposing half of a perfect bottom. He kept returning his gaze back to the job at hand, forcing himself to think of the piece of wood wedged into her skin, and not the way her thighs met and would fit him so well that if he chose to slide up behind her. . . Okay! He can't think of this right now. Instead, he removed the swabs that he had previously taped there. With another deep breath and a quick shake of his head, he picked up the tweezers and attached it to the very tip of the wood that was exposed. He wiggled it slightly and as he suspected, it was implanted so tightly that he would have to work it out.

He moved his fingers to the lower edge of the splinter and started pressing in hopes of squeezing it out of her, but the moment he thought it was going to start to give, the tip of the wood slipped out of his grasp.

"Son-of-a-bitch," he swore between grit teeth and glanced up to see her stiffen as she pressed herself farther into the pillow.

He picked up the scalpel and took it to the opening of her wound and slowly sliced at the damaged skin, releasing its hold on the foreign object enough for him to get a better grasp with the tweezers. This time when he started to pull, he kept a firm grip on the wood and continued pulling even with the force of her calves pressing up against him. She didn't cry, didn't scream or yell, but she did moan what almost sounded like a hum as she automatically lifted her buttocks in an attempt to move away from him. He put the scalpel down and used his free hand to press her back down and hold her firmly against the mattress until finally he held his trophy up to the light for his inspection. Jesus—it must be almost three inches long!

There was minimal bleeding as he pressed some gauze to it, then after a moment grabbed the bandage he had already prepared and put it over the wound. It was only then, that he took the time to look at the exposed flesh before him and after a moment of indecision, he flipped the shirt down over her again.

He swiftly got to his feet and picked up the remnants of his mini-surgery, then placed everything where it belonged before coming back the room to find her in nearly the same position she had been in when he left. She stayed on her stomach but her face was turned as she watched him, and even before he could say anything she tried to reassure him.

"I'm fine," she said a bit weaker than usual, bringing a tender smile to his lips as he moved closer to the bed and knelt along the side of it until he was facing her.

"I guess it wasn't so bad, was it?" He asked gently and she slowly shook her head negatively, then of its own volition, it took one or two nods to the affirmative. "Really?"

He couldn't hide the concern in his voice as his hand moved to her back and gently rubbed it in small circular strokes. She continued to watch him with those huge brown eyes and he felt himself getting lost in them. He wasn't aware of the trail his hand was taking until he noticed how her breath hitched and he felt the immense tightening in his jeans. A quick glance showed him that he had caught himself as he was stroking down, past the small of her back, just before coming in contact with the roundness he was in search of. He immediately got to his feet and moved to the other bed as he grabbed the remote control and sat against the headboard, pulling the other pillow onto his lap as he started flipping through the channels.


	4. Chapter 4

6

A/N: Okay, I couldn't seem to wait to post chapter four for you. I hope you're not disappointed. Now, I have to go work on chapter 5. Enjoy!

Chapter Four

Sara watched Grissom from where she lay on the bed. Her shin was throbbing on her one leg and her thigh was searing, but she hardly noticed as she looked at the bare-chested, barefoot Grissom as he flipped through the channels on the television. She wouldn't consider herself a widely experienced woman where sex was concerned, but she knew enough to have recognized the look of want in his eyes as he was kneeling next to her. She knew the feel of a caress as it traveled down her back then abruptly stopped at her bottom. And she knew what a man's erection looked like, even if they were hiding it in a pair of blue jeans. The fact that he retreated so quickly that he practically tripped over himself getting away from her, screamed the fact that he still wanted to keep her out of his life; perhaps was even feeling a little guilty over getting aroused with her while he was seeing Sophia.

The thought of Sophia turned her around until she maneuvered herself into a sitting position on the side of the bed. She sat with her legs partially open, but was adequately covered with the bottom of his shirt, and she noticed how he glanced in her direction, then immediately turned back to the television screen. "Well," she thought stubbornly, "I'm glad he has something to occupy himself!" She got up and slowly walked to where the book sat on the dresser and picked it up. "I, on the other hand, am stuck with a soggy book that, by the looks of it, might actually fall apart if I tried to turn the pages." She put the book back down and looked over her shoulder at him. He seemed to have gotten rather involved in a movie with Jeff Bridges. Another look at the television showed her that it was an old King Kong movie; definitely something she wasn't in the mood for.

Well, if she had to sit here, doing nothing for the rest of the evening—she wasn't going to make it easy on him. She turned and started to slowly stroll between the dressers and the ends of the beds, pausing in front of the television long enough to make sure that he took in the effect of her long, bare legs. Even if they were bandaged, she knew if there was one good feature that she had, it was her legs. She pretended not to notice that she was blocking his view as she ran her fingers over a vase that contained plastic daisies.

"Um—Sara. . ." Grissom spoke up, then gave a nervous cough before continuing. "I'm trying to watch that."

"Really?" She turned and faced him, still standing in front of the television.

"Yes. Really. Now, could you move? I mean, wouldn't you rather be sitting down somewhere and resting your legs?"

"My legs are fine. A little sore, but I guess that's to be expected." She moved to sit in a chair at the small table near the windows. "I'd think you'd be working on a crossword puzzle or something like that."

"No," he said as if he were explaining his motives to a child. "I want to watch this. I haven't seen it in years."

"I can understand why," she said in a bored tone as she started strumming her fingers, then looked back at him. "I mean, it isn't as if you don't know that they're going to capture the thing, take it back to civilization, lose control of it, let it climb a tall building, then get killed in the end."

"Sara," he sighed. "I'm going to watch this. You can pick something when it's over. Then I'll go to sleep and I don't care what you watch."

"Really?" She asked as she continued to strum her fingers, a little louder this time.

"Really," he told her as if to finalize the argument. "I'll share the TV after this."

He no sooner had his words out than there was a bright flash of light accompanied with a huge bang of thunder as well as what sounded like a loud pop and sizzling. They both watched in amazement as the television screen turned black. The look of accusation that Grissom wore when he looked at Sara was priceless and she had to fight to keep from laughing at him. She simply looked back at him blankly.

"See what happens when you get greedy?" she asked.

"I was "not" being greedy. I was simply taking my turn first."

"Well, at least we still have electricity," she told him. "We could play cards or something."

"And you have a deck of cards on you?" He asked doubtfully.

"I saw a pack in the drawer over there. Come on—there's nothing else to do."

He reluctantly got off the bed and went to the drawer, then moved back to the table with the deck. "What can we play?"

"Well, we could try strip poker, but that would be a rather fast game," she said as she smiled at him, laughing when she saw how he looked a bit alarmed at her suggestion. "I don't care what we play. We can play Old Maid if you want to—it doesn't matter to me."

"Don't you need a special deck to play Old Maid?" He asked as he pulled the chair out and sat opposite her.

"I wasn't serious. I'll play whatever you want."

This time when the lightning flashed and the thunder slapped around them, they heard an explosion outside and the lights in the room went out. The darkness that enveloped them was only broken by what appeared to be a transmitter that was struck by the bolt of electricity and caught on fire. Even the neon lights of the motel sign were extinguished.

"You wished that," Grissom said blandly and Sara couldn't stop the laughter that started to bubble up inside of her. "What's so funny?"

"Us. This whole situation. All we need now is for the roof to. . ."

"Don't say it!" Grissom interrupted her. "The moment you say it—it'll happen!"

"Now, you're being superstitious," Sara told him as she got to her feet and slowly made her way past him to the dresser again.

"What are you doing?"

"Looking for. . .these." Sara reached into a lower drawer and pulled out the candles she had seen earlier. She went to her duffel and got a lighter from her emergency kit and caught the wicks on fire, setting one aromatic candle on the sink in the bathroom area, and another one on the table in front of Grissom. "It might not be enough light to see cards or anything—but at least we can see to get around and not trip over anything."

Grissom dropped the cards on the table and got to his feet. He pulled the curtain and looked toward a town that was in complete darkness, then moved back toward the bed he had been sitting on. Instead of sitting this time, he fixed the pillows and lay on his side.

"I'll see you in the morning—or whenever the electricity comes back on." He closed his eyes and proceeded to attempt to go to sleep.

Sara looked at his long body as it was sprawled on the mattress and giving a long sigh, she reluctantly went to her bed and climbed beneath the sheet. Suddenly the pain she had been ignoring was becoming more palpable. She flipped the sheet back so it wasn't lying on the shin area to relieve some of the pain. It felt like she lay in her bed for hours as she would listen to Grissom's steady breathing and glance over at him often. When he turned onto his back, she couldn't seem to stop looking at the expanse of his chest and admire it, wishing that somehow he would be in her bed and she could be touching the skin the way she longed too. Finally, her eyes became heavy and sleep overcame her.

"Son-of-a-bitch."

Sara heard Grissom's angry declaration and woke up to also hear what sounded to be a steady drip of water. When she turned around to look at where he had been lying, she saw him standing next to her bed, looking down at her.

"Grissom?"

"I told you not to say it earlier, didn't I?" He asked as he sat on the edge of her bed.

"Say what?"

"You were going to say that all we needed was for the roof to leak--well. . ."

"You're kidding," Sara said skeptically as she lifted herself onto her elbows and looked over to his bed and sure enough, there were small puddles gathering on various areas of the mattress. She looked back at him, not trying to hide her smile anymore. "Jeez, Grissom. I seem to remember someone who didn't want to share the television earlier tonight. I seem to be feeling rather selfish myself regarding my bed."

He tilted his head as he looked at her with raised brow and she chuckled again, then moved over, allowing the room he needed to lie where she had been. She noticed how he seemed to strive to stay at least a foot away from her.

"I'm sorry about this, Sara. I'm sure you'd rather be home in your own bed, with your air conditioner running, your television entertaining you and without your legs battered and bruised."

"The air conditioner might be a little nice." She turned onto her side, facing him as she watched him stare at the candlelight dancing on the ceiling. "It's getting kinda hot in here."

He slowly turned his head to face her. "I—could—open the door a little. Maybe put a chair in front of it so it's only open two or three inches."

"Hmm," Sara pretended to contemplate this decision. "Do I want to sweat in bed? Or do I want some psychotic straight from a Hitchcock movie to come in and dice me up into prairie dog food?"

He smiled at her comparison to what he already felt about their atmosphere. "Do you have any specific Hitchcock psycho in mind?"

"I think you hit that nail right on the head. Who else could it be? We're in a run-down old motel out in the middle of nowhere. I'm expecting Anthony Perkins to come running in at any moment, calling, "Mother! Oh, God, mother! Blood! Blood!"

"Well," Grissom said thoughtfully. "A boy's best friend "is" his mother."

Sara stared at him in disbelief. "You know—you're about to cross the line from strangely interesting into just plain creepy."

Grissom turned more fully toward her, a glint of mischievousness in his eyes. "NORMAN! Put me down! Put me down! I can walk on my own. . ."

"Okay, I give up. You win. Now, don't do anymore."

Grissom thought a moment, then added, ". . .I won't have you bring some young girl in for supper! By candlelight, I suppose, in the cheap, erotic fashion of young men with cheap, erotic minds!"

"Grissom! Knock it off!" Sara scolded, shoving at his shoulder for emphasis.

"Mother, please. . ."

"Alright! That's enough! I'm sleeping in the damned truck!" Sara said and started to climb over top of Grissom to get to the outer side of the bed, making him laugh at her reaction.

When she was about to step over top of him, he grabbed her legs and kept her on the bed with him. "Okay, I'm through with my Norman fixation. Stay here."

Sara looked down at his shining eyes as he looked up from the pillow he was lying on. God, but he had the sexiest damned eyes she had ever seen, and when he looked at her like that, her legs began to melt out from under her. In response, she simply sat down where she stood, with one foot on either side of his hips as she sat on his groin. She wasn't a hundred percent sure that she was unaware of her destination, but still, when she felt the slight bulge of his denim against her bare apex, her eyes widened in surprise. She didn't know whether to address the matter or not. If she pushed it, he would likely retreat and she would lose this familiarity that they hadn't shared in a long time. If she didn't, the night would pass by and she would lose any chance of retrieving her heart from the man who stole it so many years before, only to watch him return to Vegas and share his feelings with someone else.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five

Grissom absorbed the playful side of Sara like a man absorbs water who's been out in the sun too long. He loved the fact that she could practically recite the lines of a Hitchcock movie right along with him. Again, her agile mind captured him and stirred his intellect and he found that extremely attractive in a woman. The moment he realized that his imitation of Norman Bates bothered her, he couldn't seem to stop himself from pushing her to her limit. When she tried to step over him to leave the room, he thought her reaction was adorable. He knew he wasn't going to let her go "sleep in the truck" so he grabbed each of her legs as she placed them on either side of him. He playfully promised he would stop agitating her as he looked up at her standing above him. Jesus, but she was a beauty, with her legs going on forever. He couldn't seem to release his hold on those legs, his long, thick fingers taking pleasure in simply holding her around her ankles. He half expected the spitfire to jump off of the bed anyway, but instead she stopped everything and stared at him with that face that had caught his attention back in San Francisco all those years before. Then, when she dropped down on top of him, perhaps with more force than he would have liked, he could see her expression was one of complete desire. That was when the smile started to fade from his face and his heart started to beat so much faster.

She didn't do anything other than watch him as her hands moved onto his chest to steady herself. He could see how her breathing was coming in short puffs, almost as if she were afraid to take a deep breath, afraid she would change some infinitesimal charge in the atmosphere that would alter their situation. He watched her huge brown eyes as they darted from his face down to his stomach and back again, and he realized she was responding to the rigidity that had begun the moment she quoted Anthony Perkins. As her little puffs dried her lips, she quickly wet them with a flick of her tongue and that was when he was beginning to suspect that he was losing ground in this battle of wits.

Neither seemed able to move, both frozen as they watched one another until finally, her thumbs started moving over his nipples, making his breath catch in his throat as he stared at her. He knew he had to end this now. He knew that "he" was the one who needed to get outside in the middle of a thunderstorm to hide in the truck for the rest of the night. He knew he had to get up from the bed; to move from beneath her, but his face must have shown his thoughts because as soon as it occurred to him, she ever so slowly started to move her hips back and forth on him.

He had no control over his reaction as he immediately bucked against her stimulation, but he quickly tried to get himself under control again. He gently moved his hands up from her ankles; his intentions being to grasp onto her hips and move her away, but as his fingers took in the smooth softness of her legs, he seemed to have forgotten his destination and found his way as far as her buttocks that were pressed so securely against him. This seemed to ignite a fire inside of Sara, a fire that he could see glowing in her eyes as she leaned down so close to him that her lips were only a breath away from his.

"It would be so easy," she whispered to him as her fingers moved against his chest like a cat flexing its claws. "There's only a fraction of an inch of cloth separating us. I can feel your body responding to mine; wanting to be with mine. I can feel your heart beating so fast because you realize the same thing."

The loud knock on the door turned Grissom's gaze to the entrance of the room and he remained still, waiting to see if it would come again, and when it did, he looked back at Sara. She had dropped her gaze, the spell having been broken. He moved his hands to her waist and turned with her, partially dumping her onto the bed as he got up when the third set of knocks echoed through the room. He paused as he got to his feet and looked down at where she slowly moved across the bed until she was sitting back against the wall with her legs drawn up and covered again with the shirt. The fourth set of knocks turned him around and he moved to the door.

He pulled the door open in a rush, his frustration showing in the way it nearly swung out of his hand and bounced against the doorstop on the wall. The sight of the old man standing inside his rain slicker aggravated Grissom. He had been a pain in his ass since his arrival at the motel. Everything had been substandard and now here he was, interrupting what was, most definitely, a delicate situation with Sara. He watched how the flashlight the man was carrying was darting around the entranceway, then when he saw that Grissom was dressed only in a pair of jeans, he pointed it inside the room until its beam rested on Sara on the other side. Grissom automatically stepped between the source of the light and its target, blocking the man's view of the beauty on the bed.

"What?" Grissom asked a bit more harshly than he had intended and the man had to half-shout in order to be heard over the rain.

"I just wanted to check in on you. We're letting everyone know that we're working on getting the generator started. The transmitter blew, so an outside source is out of the question until the power company comes to replace it—and the way its storming tonight—I don't think we're going to be a high priority."

"Fine," Grissom grumbled as he continued to stare at the man. "Is there anything else?"

"Nope. Just letting ya know." He pointed the flashlight to the bed closest to the door and saw the puddles of water gathering on it and started to walk inside but Grissom again blocked his way. "Looks like ya got a leak there."

"Obviously."

"I could come in and have a look at it."

"It appears you've already looked quite enough. We'll survive until morning."

Just then the lights flickered twice then came on and stayed on and although the neon signs at the entrance of the parking lot didn't light up, the various motel rooms showed that they now had lights behind their drawn curtains. When Grissom saw the man's eyes looking past him toward Sara again, he stepped back and pushed the door closed completely. The rattling of the old air conditioner drew his attention, or maybe simply gave him something else to look at before he had to turn and deal with the woman behind him. He slowly walked to the contraption and looked at it.

"The air conditioner is working," he said unnecessarily. "Would you like me to turn it up so it cools things off in here?"

There was no answer, only the sound of her getting off of the bed and retreating into the bathroom. When he turned to see what she was doing, he saw her approaching him with the clothes they had gotten wet earlier. With the arrangement of the chairs and table that sit in front of the air conditioner, she spread her clothing out so they might dry more quickly with the cool air hitting them. She refused to look up at him and he knew there was no possible way for them to avoid discussing what almost had transpired between them before they were interrupted. As she started to walk past him again, he stopped her by grasping her wrist. She paused momentarily.

"It's alright, Grissom," she said quietly without looking at him. "I understand. The terms are different when the lights are on. . .you were brought back to your senses. . . I'm not the one you thought you were with. Take your pick. I'll believe any one of those excuses."


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter Six

"Sara."

His comment brought her eyes up to meet his, then she jerked her hand away and moved to turn off the lights and blow out the candles. When there was only one light left on that illuminated from the bathroom, she climbed up onto the bed and turned her back to him as she lay facing the wall. He took a deep breath and moved to the other side, lying on his back next to her. His mind was a combination of turning numb and speeding up to the point of buzzing. He couldn't get his logic under control. The more he would turn his head and look at her unruly curls that fell below the collar of his shirt, the more his rules that kept him on this side of the bed were becoming indistinguishable. He reached up and ran his hand over his eyes, then back over his hair. Frustration was beginning to flow through his veins.

Dammit! Was she or wasn't she just lying on top of him, inviting him to do things to her that he had long thought about, but tried not to dwell on. And wasn't that them who only fifteen or twenty minutes ago were laughing at one another's antics? He closed his eyes and decided he would simply zone out of this scenario—and zone out on her. He was good at that, wasn't he? Hell, he was a grown man! How hard could it be to lie next to a woman and go to sleep? A woman wearing his shirt; a woman wearing "nothing" but his shirt; a woman with the softest hair imaginable; a woman. . .

He lifted himself up on elbow and looked down at her, knowing there was no way he was going to go to sleep in this condition. Hell, he wasn't even sure if he could "stay in his pants" in this condition. And what was "she" doing? Just laying there as if she were sleeping with her kid sister. "Well, I'm not her damned kid sister!" he thought as he stared at the back of her head.

He wasn't entirely aware of the moment that he put his hand on her shoulder and pressed her onto her back. He "was" aware of those chocolate eyes that looked up at him.

"What now?" she asked a bit sarcastically. "Do you want to quote more Hitchcock?"

His smile tugged at his lips as he glanced away from her, then back again. "No. I was more in the mood for liver, fava beans and a nice Chianti."

She stared at him a long moment, then couldn't seem to stop the giggle that escaped her despite her best efforts to remain angry. "Grissom—is that your attempt at talking dirty to me? Telling me that you want to "eat" someone to go with the fava beans and Chianti?"

"I thought it was a rather artful try." His smile eased the tension from his face as he watched her.

"Well, I don't have any fava beans or Chianti, but. . ."

"Don't be technical."

He casually watched his hand as he slowly opened a button on the shirt she was wearing, then another and another. As he spread the shirt open enough to expose her from her throat down to the very bottom of her abdomen while still covering the edges of her breasts, he could see her diaphragm moving in short jerky breaths. When he looked back up at her face, he saw the trepidation in her eyes.

"But, I thought. . ."

"Stop thinking," he whispered as he leaned close to her and touched his lips to hers.

When there was no response to his kiss, he pulled back to look at her again; to question if perhaps she had changed her mind, but he got no farther than two inches away and she reached for him and pulled him to her. When her lips met his and he felt her tongue dart into his mouth, he moaned deeply. Her kiss was sending him on a roll of desire like he had never experienced from a single kiss before. He didn't know who initiated it, because his only concern was to feel the softness of the body beneath him. His hands were everywhere. He was touching her face, her throat, her neck, as his tongue danced with hers. Her kiss was an anecdote to a loneliness he had been living with for years. Her kiss was hungry and seething with her need and he wanted nothing more than to feed that hunger. He lowered his touch to the shirt still clinging to her body and he shoved it over her shoulders, moving onto his back as he pulled her on top of him so he could remove it completely and let his touch move down over her, memorizing the texture of her softness as her back curved and became the luscious globes he had been sneaking glances of since he met her.

At first her touch was tentative, almost afraid, as if she thought perhaps if she pushed too hard or too fast he might run away. But he was in no position to run anymore and as she clung to his neck to continue the kisses that was fueling the fire of their desire he could feel her leg slip between his and come in contact with his groin. He felt, as well as heard, her whimper when her hip came in contact with his throbbing erection and soon her hands were traveling down over his chest, in a hurry to get to the top of his jeans. He allowed her to fumble with the button for nearly a minute as he continued to feed on her lips, then when she pulled away so she could look at what she was doing, he moved his kiss to her neck and shoulder and finally on to her amazing breast as he moved it to his mouth and began to suckle and caress and lick the area. Her movements stopped immediately as she moved one hand to his head and tried to cradle him to her then after a moment she went back to try to open his pants. Frustration sounded in every sound that escaped her throat until he pulled away from her and looked down at her hands, brushed them away and opened his pants by himself. He watched her as she moved onto her haunches and her eyes darted from what he was doing with his hands back to his face and back again. The expectancy in her face was as much a turn on as anything she had done so far. He could see that she was having a hard time stopping herself from grabbing the pants and yanking them off of him, so he didn't hesitate to pull the zipper down and press them over his erection that bobbed to life upon its freedom. Once it was free from any danger of getting caught in his zipper, she was grabbing onto his jeans and pulling them from his legs. She hurried back to his side, but he held her back by her forearms and took in the sight of her.

"Jesus," he whispered, more to himself than to her.

"Don't stop now," she whispered back with disappointment beginning to mount.

He pulled her to him before he could see a moment more of her anxiety and he rolled over until he was halfway on top of her. Their hands began their investigation again, each eager to feel areas that they had only fantasized about up to this point, but the urgency was becoming too strong and he knew he had to move forward or their "touching" would send him over the edge too soon.

He positioned himself between those long legs, then started to push inside her opening. The sensation was exquisite and he had to close his eyes to keep from coming immediately. Her tightness was savored and as he slowly started to move within her, she moaned with each stroke. He lifted his kiss from her and looked down into her face.

"You alright?" he asked as he continued what he was doing.

She gave him a quick affirmative nod as she bit onto her lip, then added, "You're size."

"My size?" he questioned, his immediate thought being that he wasn't what she had expected or hoped.

"Big—very big—wonderfully big."

He smiled briefly then immediately started kissing that beautiful mouth of hers again. His tongue outlined the gap between her teeth that he had always wondered about and the realization that he was finally able to do that sent chills through him. His need was overwhelming him and he pulled her against him tightly when he heard her call out his name, while simultaneously he could feel her core squeezing him in spasms. He couldn't hold back any longer and the explosion rocked him, leaving him breathless as he lay on top of her with his head nestled against her shoulder and her arms around him. When he was able, he lifted his head and looked down at her, searching her face for any signs of what was to happen next, but she seemed almost as shocked as he felt. He chuckled and rolled onto his side, pulling her with him as he lifted her top leg over his hip, then put his arm around her. He didn't know which he found funnier, the fact that it was a discussion about serial killers that sent them on such a passionate interlude, or the fact that he had jumped so readily through the hoop of fire that he had been running from for years—and was ready to jump through it again and again.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter Seven

Sara couldn't believe it, she really had trouble wrapping her mind around this. But here she was, lying next to the man she was in love with. He had just been inside of her! His immenseness matched his intellect, and once again it confirmed her belief that the bigger the intelligence, the bigger the. . . When he moved within her, it took her breath away. She wasn't used to someone as large as he was and the feeling of friction he was creating inside of her was glorious. But deep down she knew it would be like this. How many times had he simply looked at her, whether it be with that boyish grin that could charm the socks off of her, or his much more potent, albeit serious, observations of her when he thought she wasn't watching, that could actually charm her "pants" off.

He had her at the first touch tonight, and the first kiss made her tremble. When his large hand slid over her stomach she thought she was going to scream from the need of him. Then when he took their kisses into such a heated response to the other, she was afraid to move her hands in fear that she may claw him in her need. She was so overcome with emotion that when she finally had her opportunity to take them to the next level, she couldn't control her fingers and she seemed to become paralyzed as she tried to open his jeans. She wanted to see him, so much—needed to see him in all his glory, and she couldn't even open his damned pants. When he leaned back and opened them for her, she thought she was going to go into cardiac arrest. Jesus! The sight of that man, bare except for worn denims, then opening them in front of her and releasing himself for her made her so weak that she wasn't positive she could go on. Thank God, she was on auto-pilot and managed to pull the jeans the rest of the way from his body.

Now, she simply stared up into his laughing eyes. She hadn't seen that peaceful expression on his face since they had spent time together in San Francisco. It was almost as if he had been waging a war against his need for her ever the day he walked out of her life and back into his life in Las Vegas, and now, finally he had surrendered and found the defeat wasn't worth all the trouble he had put them through.

"Aren't you going to say anything?" he asked her as he watched her. "Did I finally find a way to make you stop talking?"

"I—I'm not sure I know what to say," she breathed as her fingertips gently stroked down along his beard. "I'm not sure what to do."

"Now—you don't know what to do?" He laughed, then looked at her lips. "Well, I can come up with a few ideas."

She couldn't stop the gasp when he reached down beneath her knee and pulled it even higher on his hip as he pressed against her. Her eyes grew large when she realized that he was growing hard again already. Jesus! They had only finished their first time a little over ten minutes ago! He rolled her partially onto her back as he leaned over her. She was beginning to think she was dreaming as he teased her by brushing his lips over hers, not going in for completion until she couldn't stand it any longer and placed a hand on each side of his face, holding him still as she met his lips and started to nibble on their perfection. She drew his bottom lip between hers, letting her tongue slide across it, then as she opened her mouth farther, she traced his upper lip as well. But he didn't seem satisfied with only kissing her lips. He tipped her chin upward and spread a combination of nips, licks and sucks on her throat. His hand moved down over her arm to her shoulder and onto her chest where his palm found her breast, cupping it and massaging it almost as if he were sizing it to see if it was as he had always imagined it to be. When he growled and moved his kiss to the breast in his hand, she knew that he found it satisfactory and as he suckled her, she arched against him, cradling his head to her in her ecstasy. The sensation of his hand gliding down over her waist then on to her hip and thigh was sending shivers through her. When he maneuvered away from her, she slid her hand down his muscular arm and on to his hip, but he grasped onto her fingers and moved them up to kiss them, one by one. He replaced his hand on her thigh and moved higher, teasing her curls before sliding his finger between her folds, coming in contact with the bud that was throbbing already and she thought she was going to die from anticipation.

"Grissom," she said between breaths as his mouth moved onto the roundness of her breast again and his tongue curled around her nipple, sucking it into his mouth and alternately nipping and licking at it.

"Sara," he whispered back as he kissed his way back up over her chest until he found her lips and thrust his tongue inside.

He strummed her until her hips started to gyrate, instinctively seeking more from him, and he obliged her by sliding his middle finger inside and after a few strokes, inserted his forefinger as well.

"Grissom, please," she gasped and he lifted his head from her and looked down at her through eyes that almost seemed to be drugged with passion. "I have to touch you."

His smile only tugged slightly on his lips and he moved onto his back and allowed her to lean over him so she could investigate his body. She felt as if her heart was going to beat through her chest as she looked at him, letting her gaze travel from the top of his salt and pepper hair, down over his beautiful face, over the magnificence of his arms and torso and on to his powerful legs. She had skipped over that part of him that she wasn't quite sure of; knowing that it had felt immense, and now as she settled her gaze on it, she most certainly wasn't disappointed.

All of a sudden she felt the like the young woman who had a huge crush on a man fifteen years her senior; a man in his prime who could merely look at her and set her heart aflutter. Again, she had trouble comprehending that this was really happening until she saw him reach for her and pull her against him and he whispered in her ear.

"You're still not touching. . ."

The hint urged her on and she laid her head on his shoulder, occasionally nibbling on his neck or kissing his chest as her hand started its investigation over his arms and chest, then onto his stomach. As she went lower, she listened to his moan rumble beneath her ear, and when she finally touched his shaft, it almost burned her. She never had a desire to please anyone as much as she wanted to please him at that moment. She wasn't particularly an expert at doing this, but she knew the general mechanics. The fact was, that when she performed this on any of her other lovers, she wasn't as interested in fulfilling them as she was with Grissom. So, hesitantly, her hand started moving over his length in long strokes. She listened to his reactions and it guided her on to show her which way felt best to him. He emitted a heat that she craved and when she lifted her head to face him, he grabbed onto her face and started kissing her again. Before she realized what was happening, he flipped her onto her back again and moved between her legs. She positioned him at her entrance and he slowly pressed his girth inside, making her bite his lip as she accepted him. His fingers suddenly seemed to bite into the soft flesh of her behind, and he started a rhythm inside of her that had her gasping for breath. She reveled in the feel of his chest pressing down on top of hers, his stomach touching her abdomen and his legs fitting so remarkably well between her own. Every stroke he took intensified the coiling in her belly and when he reached between them and touched her there, she felt her world explode around her for the second time this night. He continued on, his movements becoming more powerful until with what sounded like a growl and a three final thrusts that she was sure was going to split her in two, she felt him erupting inside of her.

She held her arms around him, let her hands move down over his back that was now damp with sweat and as his breaths became less harsh, she finally heard the sound of a phone vibrating on the nightstand.

"Grissom," she whispered. "Your phone's ringing."

Without lifting his head from where it was nestled against the side of her face, he blindly reached for the offensive piece of electronics, then switched it into his other hand as he looked at the caller ID. He sighed deeply then flipped it open.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter Eight

"Grissom," he grumbled, glancing down at Sara.

"Hey! How's it going?" Catherine's voice came over the phone. "Anything come up, yet?"

"How is "what" going? And what do you mean, has anything "come up" yet?"

He looked back at Sara again, seeing how her face seemed to turn crimson. She dropped her gaze from his and started looking around the room as if looking for a means of escape, but he didn't want her to escape just yet, so he stayed where he was, lying firmly embedded within her as his weight held her down.

"Well, I'd think that's rather obvious, Gil! How's the case going? And have you found anything worth sending us yet?"

"Uh—yeah—yeah. I Fed-Exed some samples to you—I would've thought you'd have received them by now."

"It could be the storm. They say some roads are flooded—maybe they couldn't get through as planned."

"Let me up," Sara whispered to him.

"What?" Catherine asked.

"Um—nothing."

"Was that Sara? Is she in your room with you?"

"I said, let me up," Sara whispered again.

"That "is" Sara. I'm actually amazed that you're both capable of being in the same room without attacking each other."

"I beg your pardon?" He asked. "Attacking each other?"

"Well, yeah. The way you two have been getting along lately. . .frankly, I'm surprised you didn't call Sophia in when you knew you'd be spending time away from the lab with another CSI. You and Sara have been sending each other such dirty looks lately that I'm surprised either of you can walk by now."

"Walk?"

"Yes, Grissom, walk. Jesus Christ, are you gonna repeat everything I say? Walk—as in it's a wonder Sara hasn't beaten the hell out of you by now. You evidently didn't do anything to piss her off yet."

"I wouldn't exactly say that."

"Ah, so you "are" fighting."

"We'll get over it."

"I suspect that you'd better. Otherwise it's going to be a few days from hell. Have you eaten yet?"

"No," Grissom told her as he looked back at Sara who was now trying to slip out from beneath him. "Not yet, but soon."

"Really? They actually have a restaurant open all night there? I would've thought they pulled up the sidewalks by nightfall."

"Yeah—well, I'm sure I'll find something to eat. Fava beans and Chianti are coming to mind." His eyes crinkled with humor as Sara's crimson face turned fire engine red and she started pushing at him in a manner that reminded him very much of the cat trying to push herself out of Pepe Le Pew's embrace.

"Fava beans? That's Sara's influence, isn't it? She's got you on her vegetarian kick. Jeez, I don't know how fulfilling that will be."

"Um," Grissom swallowed with difficulty as Sara finally maneuvered herself so that he was, at least, not inside of her anymore. When she tried to slide her thighs out from beneath his, he moved his legs until they were entwined with hers. "I'm sure it'll be very appetizing; everything I need."

"Please!" Sara insisted with a bit more determination. "Let me get up!"

"What did she say?" Catherine asked. "To please let her up? Where is she?"

"She said, please, give me my cup. We're drinking coffee." He had to keep himself from laughing when he looked at how Sara was staring at him with a raised brow. "And going over more evidence we've come across. Um, look, Catherine, I—uh—really think we need to get back to work here. Let me know when you get that shipment I sent. It should've been there by now."

"Like I said, it's probably the weather that's delaying it."

"Yeah, okay," he said without paying attention to her anymore as his interest was on the woman lying beneath him. "I've gotta go now."

"Wait—Grissom!"

"What?" he asked irritably.

"Tell Sara to get her phone out of her room. She hasn't been answering and there are people trying to get through to her."

"I'll let her know that."

"She probably left it over in her own room."

"I'll see that she gets it." He closed his phone and tossed it back onto the nightstand, then looked at Sara again. She seemed to be quite attractively flushed as she looked back at him and he wasn't sure if it was embarrassment or anger. "Your phone must be in the truck. Evidently someone told Catherine they've been trying to get hold of you. Are you expecting anything important?"

"Important?" She looked at him blankly, then he could almost see when a thought occurred to her, but instead of going into an explanation, she avoided it completely. "Oh. No—no. Not really."

He eyed her a moment, then moved onto his side and pulled her with him. His hands held onto her waist with his lower one holding her against him as his upper hand took pleasure in feeling the texture of the skin covering her back—and backside.

"Another triple-feature at the Nostalgia Complex with Greg?"

"What?"

"Did you miss another trip to the theater with Greg. Is that why he's calling you?"

She chuckled as she looked at him. "You know about Greg's and my "dates" to the Nostalgia Complex?"

"Who doesn't?" he smiled at her, enjoying her touch as her fingers stroked the hair at the nape of his neck. "He doesn't mind letting everyone know that he managed to take the departmental "hottie" out to see. . .what was it last time? Charles Bronson?"

"No, that was last month. Last weekend we went to see Audie Murphy. Greg seemed to be in awe of his war record to the point of hero worship."

"Audie Murphy?"

"We watched "To Hell and Back," "the Unforgiven," and "the Wild and the Innocent."

"Really? So? Were you in awe of his military record, too?"

"No. . .," she said slowly as she glanced down at his shoulder, then back to him. "I was more in awe of his. . .well, he was rather handsome. He had a certain. . .charisma about him."

"Hmmm. So, just how difficult will it be to break up this weekly ritual of taking in old movies?"

"It isn't weekly—only when it features actors we enjoy. We hadn't been there for about two months before the Charles Bronson films. That was when we went to see Franchot Tone and Deanna Durbin."

"And how did you talk Greg into going to see Franchot Tone."

"What makes you think "I" had to talk "Greg" into going? Maybe "he's" the one who wanted to go and see Deanna Durbin."

"Did he?"

"He didn't even know who she was. But, after watching them, he did walk away with a crush on her."

"Not surprising. He's into beautiful brunettes." He rolled onto his back and pulled her more tightly against his side, then reached down and pulled her leg up over his thighs. "And, I can't say I blame him."

"Greg's into anything that can smile and do mathematical equations at the same time," Sara said then yawned as she snuggled closer to him. "He's a good kid."

"Mmm-hmm." Grissom brushed a strand of hair off her face and kissed her forehead as he allowed her to relax against him. "Tired?"

"A little."

Her voice told him that she was a tad bit more than "a little" tired, and within moments her even breathing told him that she was asleep. He remained on his back as he watched the ceiling above them. Up until this moment, he hadn't had a second to stop and consider what had happened to him this night. Now, as he lay with a beautiful woman curled up against his side, he felt things he didn't think he could feel. He felt comfortable.

He thought of the last few times he had been with a woman and realized they were few and far between. His last encounter was with another beautiful brunette, but his post-coital relaxation was anything, but. . . It wasn't that he hadn't tried. He wanted it to be the greatest sex he had ever had in his life. He wanted the experience to wash away any thoughts of the dark-haired vixen he had hired to work on his crew. He wanted the expertise of Heather Kessler to erase Sara Sidle from his mind completely. But the fact was, it simply didn't work. Sara was firmly implanted in his mind and any attempts to get over her was only a joke. So, he chose to ignore Sara and when that didn't work, he turned his attention to the newest addition to their crew. Sophia Curtis showed no signs of finding his extra attention disagreeable. In fact, her reaction to him had quickly become something that he lost enthusiasm for. Her biggest flaw was that she simply wasn't Sara. He clearly wasn't showing any signs of preference to the blonde anymore.

Terri Miller had been a flirtation that never really amounted to anything. And before Terri. . . He had to smile to himself, thinking about how easy life would have been if he had only finished what had been started in San Francisco. But the fact was that he had fallen in love with her so quickly that it scared the shit out of him. He watched her walk into his lecture and couldn't seem to take his eyes off of her. She was his set of "kind eyes" as he spoke, always returning to her to focus on so he wasn't necessarily focusing on the other fifty people listening to him. When she approached him after the lecture, he felt a surge of excitement flow through him, and when her questions mounted, his excitement turned into eagerness. She stayed longer than everyone else and when she finally asked him to dinner, how could he refuse. At forty-one, he found the twenty-six-year-old completely refreshing, and he was still young enough that he actually convinced himself nothing harmful could come from spending the next four days with her and allowing her to be his tour guide. It was at forty-one that he soon realized that the most harmful thing he was facing was the way he was losing himself within her. She made him laugh as no one else had ever done before. She made him see beauty in things he had only glanced at before. She made him think about things that he had taken for granted before. And he made him feel things he had ignored before. But, at forty-one, he was sure he knew what was best for everyone. He was, after all, not only fifteen years older than Sara, but he was a well established criminologist. He was sure that his sojourn into bliss for those four days was something he would soon get past and forget about. He was wrong.

Sara stretched in her sleep and turned away from him until she was lying on her stomach with her arm lying over the edge of the mattress. Grissom turned toward her and looked at the curve of her back as it joined with her perfect bottom. He thought about how many times he had watched her walk out of his office and he would fantasize about reaching out and grabbing onto the perfect globes. Or how often he would either walk by, or enter, the locker room and see her bent over, retrieving something from the floor or bottom of her locker, and he would instantly see himself walking up behind her and grabbing onto her hips so he could press himself to the wonders before him. It wasn't that he was actually an "ass-man." He found different things attractive about different women. But with Sara, it had always been the entire package. So, for every time he fantasized of caressing or being stimulated by her bottom, he was equally attracted to her breasts. Her tight tee-shirts were a constant struggle for him. But, a struggle, that he usually would surrender and stand near her, staring at her breasts as if he were a horny teenager looking at a centerfold.

Without hesitation, he reached for the small of her back, lightly running his fingers over the indentation along her spine, then moving toward the rounded cheeks that beckoned him. It started as a simple touch, then a stroke, and soon, his memories of all the times he sat in his office with half a boner just from watching her sent him into overdrive again. He glanced down at the erection that was standing at half-mast again. Christ, he hadn't gotten it up three times in one night since. . . Never! In college he would sometimes go at it twice in a night, but ever since then, once was quite enough. He knew he was in dire need of her attention, otherwise he was going to either disgrace himself lying next to her, or stay awake the rest of the night because his hard-on wouldn't let him fall asleep. He had no choice in the matter really. He had made the leap tonight and he knew he was trapped; but he also knew he was trapped in paradise.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter Nine

Sara didn't know which sensation she was aware of first, but she knew she had to have died and gone to heaven. As she lay on her stomach, she could see the hand that was sliding along the length of her arm that was above her, a hand that she recognized immediately as one of a pair of hands she had watched for years; beautiful, strong and oh-so-sexy hands. She felt her weight being pressed into the mattress as a large body covered hers from her shoulders down past her rump where she felt a set of muscular legs lying between her own as well as a hard protrusion that was riding against her.

"I'm not sleepy," Grissom whispered into her ear, then moved his mouth to her shoulder where he spread soft kisses across it and on to her back and neck. "Are you sleepy?"

She smiled at the redundancy of the question, seeing as he just woke her from a deep slumber, but she didn't mind. She didn't mind if she woke up in this manner every day for the rest of her life. She lifted her hips and wiggled against his erection in response to his inquiry and heard him laugh gently against the side of her throat.

"See?" he said softly. "I didn't "think" you were sleepy."

Before she could lower her hips again, he pressed against her more firmly and opened her legs with his own. Both of his hands were now sliding over her arms and sending tingles through her. She could feel him becoming harder the more he pressed against her and the sensation was filling her with yearning. She moved her head closer to his arms as they were around her and she kissed the muscles she found there, taking pleasure in the way they rippled as he moved his hands along her softness.

"For some reason," he murmured against her back as his own hips slowly gyrated against her. "I'm finding sleep to be extremely overrated tonight."

She didn't know how to respond to him. She didn't know what to say. He effectively rendered her speechless. She reached behind herself and touched his beard, enjoying the sensation of it as he moved across her back and shoulders. She moaned gently when he captured her hand and nipped at her fingertips.

"Is that all you've got to say?" He breathed against her ear, then reached beneath her stomach with one hand and lifted her as he lowered himself until she could feel the tip of him pressing against her entrance.

She felt him attempt to press inside, but the fact was that he was too large to enter in this position without shifting her somewhat, so she moved herself until she could feel the tip of him sliding inside. She gasped at the invasion, knowing that this position would render her nearly helpless, yet when he lowered himself against her and rocked his hips, the pleasure was immeasurable. His thrusts were slow and he seemed almost relaxed.

"Sara," he whispered as he moved his hands until he was reaching beneath her chest and holding onto her breasts. "God, Sara, you fit me like a glove; a second skin; like you were created especially for me and only me."

His words were as stimulating to her as his actions and soon she was reaching down along her sides and back until she could touch his hips. His continued strokes were putting her into a state of delicious anticipation and she could feel him trying to maintain the slowness that would prolong their enjoyment.

She rode the rhythm that he executed and went higher with him until she thought she was going to go insane from the need of release. That was when she pressed back against him and lifted her hips, trying to lift him so she could get onto her knees.

"Are you ready?" he breathed against her and when she nodded her head once, he shifted his weight until he was his knees behind her.

His thrusts were becoming more powerful now, moving faster as he moved with her until she was standing erect on her knees and he held one hand to her breast, massaging and stimulating her; his mouth nipped at her neck and shoulder, and his other hand slid downward where his finger slid over the hard pebble that he knew would send her to the ends of the universe. She strained against him as she held onto his arm for support and soon she felt the explosion that she found only he could create. Her ending was so powerful that she felt slightly dizzy and had to reach out to hold onto the wall to keep from falling as his movements became so forceful that he was literally lifting her off the mattress. She was just becoming coherent from her own orgasm when she felt him hug her with both arms in a massive bear hug and actually growl until he, too, had to reach forward and grab onto the wall so he wouldn't collapse on her.

After many moments, he gently backed away from her then turned her body until she was facing him. He gave her a lazy smile as he took her hand and gestured for her to lie down on the mattress again, then he moved until he was lying next to her. She couldn't seem to take her eyes off of him. He was magnificent as she always knew he would be, but the added years only intensified the appeal. He turned onto his side to face her as he looked at her again.

"Aren't you going to say "anything?"

Her smile spread across her face as she looked back at him. "Um—it's about time?"

He chuckled. "Yeah, I guess it is."

"And—I told you so."

"What exactly would that be?"

"I told you long ago that it would be this good."

"You did." He stroked his hand up her arm in a lingering caress. "Anything else?"

"I—I don't know what to say—I don't know what to think. I think I need more time to let this all sink in."

He nodded his head in understanding, then moved a little closer to her and pulled her against him again. Her hand automatically went to his back where it stroked him until, this time, it was he who fell under sleep's spell.

Sara lay on the bed, holding him against her as she listened to his even breathing. She was still in a daze but soon her thoughts returned to San Francisco and the lecturer whose very presence opened her eyes to what desire could be. She walked into that room, not expecting much; after all, she was told he was an older gentleman, so she really didn't put much effort into her appearance that day. She didn't even see him as she walked through the door, she was more focused on finding a seat where she could listen to the speaker without being seen—that way if she found him overly boring, she could let her mind wander without being exposed. But, as luck would have it, just as she was heading for a seat that was off to the side, and almost hidden behind a pillar, another girl got to it ahead of her. She stopped, swearing under her breath, and stood looking around. The seats were filling up quickly and she was very near the point of simply turning around and walking out of the room, but she heard a man's voice that stopped her in her tracks.

"Miss? Miss?"

Sara almost didn't look at him, after all, she had no reason to believe that she was the one being spoken to, but after hearing two of the other students informing the man of her last name, she glanced toward the podium at the front of the room.

"Miss—Sidle?" he said as he looked at her and she felt her stomach do a flip-flop at the sight of the bluest eyes she had ever seen in her life. "There's an empty seat up here."

She looked at the seat he was gesturing toward and her heart sank. Front row—center seat. Damn! It might not have bothered her if he had been the "older" gentleman she had been warned about, but the fact that he was drop-dead gorgeous made her feel very awkward and unkempt.

"Thank—thank you."

Silently she made her way to the chair and sat down, trying not to look at him as she attempted to become as inconspicuous as possible. Jesus, she had her damned hair pulled back in a stupid ponytail. She was wearing her oldest cut-off denims and she thought maybe there might be a worn spot in the rear that was a tad bit too close to becoming a hole, and, she was wearing a tee-shirt that she should have thrown away long ago when it clung just a little bit too close for the sake of propriety.

Her self-consciousness kept her gaze pointed toward the floor for the first few minutes of the session, but as she listened to his voice, she couldn't help but become more and more attracted to the sound. Soon, she was glancing up at him and it didn't take long to realize that his eyes weren't the only thing that she found appealing. His nose was almost perfect, maybe showing a slight crookedness when looked at from one side, but otherwise could have been carved by the gods. His lips were sensual and as she watched him speak, she caught herself nibbling on her own lips. There was no thinking about it—she could see and feel herself kissing him, tasting him. And when he walked close, the smell of him made her knees weak. Before the end of fifteen minutes, her eyes were openly inspecting him and within another ten minutes, she noticed that he was beginning to watch her a little more than any of the other people in the room. Another half hour and she was completely lost on this man. She knew there was no way she was going to walk out of this room without making some kind of contact with him.

Usually a rather reserved individual, it was so unlike her as she waited for everyone else to leave after he finished his speaking. She was half afraid that he, too, would make his escape before she managed to approach him, but when there were only about ten students left as they surrounded him with their questions, she noticed how his eyes would wander past the circle of people and meet hers as she remained in her chair.

When the last of the people walked out the door, she swallowed with difficulty and felt a nervousness so intense she nearly ran from the room as well. She even managed to get to her feet, but as she moved onto the floor, his voice stopped her again.

"I'm glad you stayed, Miss Sidle."

"I—beg your pardon?"

"Earlier—when you couldn't find a seat. I'm glad you didn't leave. Did you find it worth your time?"

"Um—yes," she said as she watched him look up from the notes he was putting into his case. "I—was just wondering. . ."

And so began the questions that she couldn't seem to stop asking, reluctant to end their conversation and end their association. Finally, they looked toward the doorway as other people began entering and alerted them that they had been talking for nearly half an hour.

"I guess we better leave," Grissom said and politely placed his hand on her elbow as they left the room and started down the hallway toward the exit.

They squinted their eyes as they stepped outside and were blasted with the strong sunshine, then they looked at one another and smiled.

"Are—you going to be here long, Dr. Grissom?"

"Through the rest of the week. I'll be returning to Las Vegas this weekend."

"Are you planning on spending much time sightseeing with your wife?" she asked, already seeing the absence of a ring, but opening the opportunity for him to admit or deny the existence of a girlfriend.

"No wife. I'm afraid I'm married to my job. And I'm not familiar enough with the area to put a lot of effort into sightseeing."

"What about dinner? Have you made plans for dinner? I could show you a really great place by the harbor. You won't walk away hungry." She smiled at him as she nervously put her hand into her back pocket.

His eyes traveled over her and she could feel him admiring her appearance. "I'd love to go to dinner by the harbor. Should I pick you up?"

When he showed up that evening he had changed into a pair of jeans and a button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled partially up his forearms. He played quite the gentleman as he took her to his car and then drove to their destination. Throughout dinner she noticed that he listened to her very attentively. He was the first man who made her feel bright and special; showing an interest in her opinions on almost everything. When they finished eating, he walked with her along the harbor and at times their conversation would become silent, but it felt comfortable. Sometimes their conversation would become serious, discussing various things that they were seeing on their tour, and sometimes they smiled and laughed at whatever antics happened to be taking place around them. By the end of the evening, she was more than prepared to take him into her apartment and show him how very much he intrigued her, but he refused to enter. Her heart felt like it was dropping out of her chest until he lifted her hand to his lips and kissed her fingertips, suggesting that they spend the next four evenings touring other areas of the city.

By the end of the fourth evening, the thought of him leaving was tearing her apart. This time, when he walked her to the door, she knew she had to have him come inside, then perhaps she could show him how much he had come to mean to her—how much she wanted him. That was when she told him that she knew they would be great together, and that was when he smiled sadly at her and said he needed to leave. She watched him drive away, feeling lost the moment he was out of sight. She felt empty and the following days went by in a blur—until that first email arrived, and a two-year communication began, ending in an invitation to come to Las Vegas for a job as a CSI. How could she say no? Then, once she arrived, she found their friendship that she had valued so much had been pushed away, and the love she had hoped to find with him was hopeless. She often wondered just why she continued to stay and be treated with such indifference and at times even betrayal. Tonight, as she lay in the motel room holding him to her, she knew why. She couldn't let go.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter Ten

"What do you mean you still haven't gotten anything?" Grissom's voice woke Sara as she lay on the bed. "Well, get on it and call back as soon as you find anything out."

Sara glanced down to see that her legs were exposed, then her midsection had a sheet draped over it, but once it got up past her waist, she was again exposed to the cool air coming from the air conditioner. She immediately looked at where Grissom was pacing back and forth at the bottom of the bed, moving from the front door back to the entrance to the bathroom area, then back again. The glances he was throwing her way didn't even reach her face as he would looked at her exposed parts, then turn his attention back to the telephone. The fact that he was fully clothed in his jeans and shirt that she had been wearing the night before, turned her attention to the pile of clothing that he had evidently folded and put on the dresser for her. She immediately grabbed the sheet and yanked it up to cover herself, her action turning his attention back to her where he seemed to notice for the first time that she was awake.

"I'll start working on getting more collected just in case. Fine!" He flipped his telephone closed then leaned back until he was half-sitting/half-leaning against the top of the desk where he ran his hand over his face in frustration. "They still haven gotten the shipment from yesterday morning."

"I'll—uh—get up and get ready. We'll have to go back and collect it again."

She got to her feet and pulled the sheet around her as she started toward the pile of clothing he had stacked for her, then she turned and started toward the shower again. The tug he gave on the sheet not only stopped her, but effectively pulled the top down until it was hanging off of her waist. She attempted to pull it back up but got blocked when he placed his hands on her waist and pulled her closer until she stood between his legs. She finally met his eyes and watched as a half-smile formed on his lips. With a sudden jerk, he pulled her closer and before she even realized what he was doing, he had his head bent as he took a pert nipple between his lips. His sucking made her sway against him and hold onto his shoulders for support, but sharp knocking at the door slowed his efforts until he eventually just moved his head until his forehead was leaning against her shoulder. As the knocking continued, he finally looked up at her.

"This isn't over," he told her then allowed her to go into the bathroom as he went to answer the door.

Sara overheard the sheriff talking to Grissom as she turned on the shower as they discussed the fact that there would have to be a re-examination due to what seemed to be an accident caused by flood waters. Sara had lived in Vegas long enough to know that although the previous night had been a continuous downpour, and there had been areas where the waters gathered in dangerous amounts, once she would go outside into the bright sunshine, everything would be dry again without any traces of the earlier weather disturbances.

She took a quick shower and threw on her now-dry clothes, then hurried out of the shower only to find Grissom waiting by the Denali. He had two cups of coffee waiting and handed one to her, then got into the truck and they went back to the body again for any new evidence they could collect. When they were through, they went to the crime scene and started going over the grounds but within two hours, they were alerted that another body was found a few houses down. By dinner time, they were both dusty and tired as they walked down the main street and Sara half expected a buggy to pull up while someone tied their horse to the post out front of the general store, and when they came across what very closely resembled said store, Sara paused and started inside.

This time she was going to be prepared as she went directly to the blue jeans and pulled out a pair in her size, then rummaged through some tee-shirts until she found one suitable for working in. The underclothing was a little harder to come by, but she found some that would fit. Sara paid for her purchases and went outside where she was beginning to feel the effects of the Nevada heat so decided that a cool Diet-Pepsi would go down well. She shoved a dollar bill into the slot of the nearby soda machine and listened to the clunking of the bottle as it dropped from its shoot. Another dollar and a regular Pepsi dropped for her and she picked up both bottles and headed back toward the motel.

Upon entering the room, noticed all of her and Grissom's belongings were gone. She took a step back outside and glanced around, then went to the office where she found the manager sitting behind the counter, watching a small thirteen-inch television. He seemed reluctant to turn away from what appeared to be an old episode of the Andy Griffith Show, but finally looked up at her.

"Oh—I guess he didn't tell ya. We got another open room so we moved your stuff in there. We gotta fix the leak in Nine. Didn't think you'd want to be in there while we were working on it."

Sara waited as he looked back at Don Knotts and when it became apparent that he was going to say nothing more, she tapped her fingers on the countertop.

"Um—just where would "my things" happen to be?"

"Down in Fifteen. Jeez, your partner could've told you that. Hell, he's been back for over half an hour."

"Yes, well—that would be kind of difficult, considering that I "wasn't" here to tell." She started for the door, but he called after her and stopped her.

"Here—you'll need a key. He left about five minutes ago. I saw him head back toward town."

Sara took the key and went back out into the heat of the sun and walked the extra six rooms where she opened the door to be blasted with the cool air within. She sighed in relief and dropped most of her new things on the dresser, but continued on to the bathroom with her bare essentials: a pair of panties and tee-shirt. She decided that after a quick shower, she'd put on the rest, but the thought of warm water beating down against her tired muscles made the shower irresistible.

She must have been a lot longer than she thought because as she towel-dried her hair, she noticed Grissom sitting at the small table, wearing what appeared to be new clothes he must have gotten when he returned to town. His button-down shirt was opened to mid-chest level and his sleeves were rolled up to his mid-forearms. The color was only slightly darker blue than the faded jeans that were hugging his legs.

"You took a shower already?" she asked as she dropped the towel and entered the room with him.

"Mm-hmm, before you got back."

She noticed how he was looking at something in his hand before popping whatever he was holding into his mouth. She slowly approached him and looked at the box he was now pouring more of his treasure from. The sight of the small pink and white capsule-shaped confections made her eyes widen. She watched as he seemed to be taking great joy in eating the candy, then finally looked up at her.

"What's that?" she asked with faux curiosity.

"Nothing," he lied.

"Are you going to share?" She took another step toward him and paused when she was only a foot away.

"It's all gone." Again, a blatant lie as he poured more candy into his palm and popped it into his mouth as his eyes watched her with amusement.

"I bought you a soda."

"Oh—thanks." He reached for the bottle and opened it, took a drink, then sat it back down as he took some more candy.

"Come on, Grissom!" she said, finally losing her composure as she took another step toward him. "You can't sit there and eat a whole box of "Good and Plenty" without sharing it with me! You know it's my favorite candy!"

"Your favorite? Boy, that's a coincidence, huh?"

"You know perfectly well it's my favorite! You bought it for me every day when we were in San Francisco! Come on—give me some."

He smiled mischievously as his eyes met hers. "And what do I get in exchange for it?"

"I told you—I got you a soda."

"Not good enough." He put a pink candy in his mouth.

"Fine," she told him, then moved back to her pile of new clothes and slid the treat out from beneath it. "Keep your "Good and Plenty." I'll eat these—all by myself."

He looked at her smugly—until he saws the orange wrapper she was tearing open. The aroma of peanut butter filled the room and he leaned forward in his chair as he watched her.

"Where did you get that? They didn't have any left when I went back to the store."

"That's because I bought the last one. I knew you'd want something to snack on—but since you're filling up on those—you won't need any peanut butter cups." She slid her finger along the chocolate and licked the brownness from its tip. "Just where did you find those, anyway? I certainly didn't see them."

"They just brought them out. They were restocking the candy shelves. Here—I'll trade ya."

"No, thank you," she teased as she took a bite of what she knew was "his" favorite candy. "This will be fine."

He slowly got to his feet and got that sexy smile in his eyes that could melt her. He slowly approached her and she popped the entire cup into her mouth and started laughing at him when she watched his eyes widen in surprise. She held the cup's twin out for his inspection as she slowly backed away from him and when he reached for it, she stuffed that one between her lips as well.

"Jesus, Sara! Good thing I didn't have hold of it yet—you would've bitten my damned fingers!"

She was having trouble with the amount of peanut butter in her mouth, but she couldn't stop her smile as she watched him still approaching toward her until the backs of her legs touched the mattress. She wanted to tell him that he would have deserved it, but she couldn't get the words past the mass of food, causing her to laugh again.

"You certainly can put a large quantity in your mouth," he mumbled as his eyes remained on the chocolate on her lips. "It makes me wonder what else you could manage to stuff in there."

His remark made her choke a moment on the candy, then when he smiled at her again she swallowed and leaned toward him to press her flavored lips to his. His tongue slid over the chocolate then dipped inside and she could taste the licorice left on it that mixed with the peanut butter cups she had just swallowed. He held her by her hips and soon she knew their simple kiss wasn't enough for him. In a split second, she was turned as he reversed their positions and he sat on the mattress's edge. He pulled her with him as he lay back on the bed, but on his way, he reached to her pile of clothes and slid his hand beneath them, pulling back with another pack of peanut butter cups in his hand.

"Hey!" She pushed herself up onto her elbows as she looked down at him and his sneaky smile charmed her. "How did you know that was there!"

"I saw it when I was looking at your new clothes." He turned away from her as he opened the package and she promptly grabbed the candy and pulled it away from him.

"You can't be serious," she breathed. "You'd rather eat candy than. . ."

His eyebrow rose as he stared at her. "Than—what?"

"Never mind. I'll leave you alone and let you eat."

She moved to get up, but he took the candy from her again and tossed it back onto the dresser, then pulled her back down on him. He turned onto his side, then maneuvered himself up farther on the bed and pulled her along with him. She barely had time to look at him before his lips were spreading kisses across her forehead and cheeks. He pressed her onto her back as his hand skimmed down over her side and his finger hooked onto the elastic of her panties where he paused only a moment before pulling them down and she assisted in removing them from her long legs.

"I don't think we need these," he murmured against her lips.

"And you don't need this closed," she told him as she unbuttoned his shirt all the way and pressed it open, then opened his jeans and lowered the zipper.

He grunted with discomfort until he assisted her in releasing his erection, then he pulled her neck closer as his tongue teased the inside of her mouth. She could feel him growing harder in her hand and she couldn't resist pumping her hand along its length to take in its velvety heat.

"Who needs peanut butter cups?"

He dipped his head lower and rubbed his beard across her neck before dropping his lips to caress the area he just scratched. His tongue moved slowly across the skin as he moved his jean-clad thigh between her legs and pulled her knee up over his hip. As his hands moved up from her waist and slid beneath her tee-shirt, she felt a shiver begin at her toes and work its way through her until his palm reached its destination and he cupped her perfect mound. His thumb found her nipple, circling it until it became a hard bead and she gasped at the sensations he was creating. She met his eyes briefly, the intensity of the blue orbs causing her legs to tighten around his thigh in an attempt to assuage the coiling that was taking place there. Then he moved his head lower and replaced his hand with his mouth. He suckled her like a man thirsting for the essence of her and soon his hand had moved down to her hip, sliding over her buttocks where he took his pleasure in touching and stroking the soft skin he found there. Soon, he was removing his leg from between hers and he dropped his kiss lower until he found her belly button and nipped around it while his fingers traced their way around her body and down to the core of her.

"God! Grissom!" she breathed without being aware of it and it urged him onward as his thumb began circling and stroking her hardened clitoris.

He pushed her thighs apart and moved himself until he was lying between them, then his destination was apparent as his fingers moved lower and he pressed one inside of her. His tickling beard was lower now, actually brushing against her hardened nub as he nuzzled the sensitive skin at the bottom of her abdomen. Her breathing turned to panting and without a conscious thought about it, her hands moved to grasp onto his head, easily moving him to where he could fulfill her desperate need of him. Upon the first flick of his tongue, she actually yelped and bucked up against him, causing him to chuckle slightly before resuming his hungry assault on her senses.

"Look at me," he whispered against her and she whimpered as she lifted her head and watched the beautiful head of curls nestled between her legs.

The effect was mesmerizing. She was actually here with Gil Grissom. God! How long had she wanted this? How long had she dreamed about this, only to be repeatedly shot down by his distance. But he was here now. He was doing things to her that were so intimate that the mere sight and reassurance that it was actually him was driving her toward a climactic ending such as she had never experienced before.

"Grissom! Grissom!" she panted as he slid two fingers inside of her and started stroking into her as he manipulated her hard bead with various strokes of his tongue, flicks and sucks.

She clung to the softness of his curls, letting the intimacy wash over her as she pressed her head back against her pillow and arched her back. He grasped onto her buttocks and pulled her more tightly against him, tilting her hips to give himself better access. Her breaths were catching in her throat until the massive explosion rocked her and she tugged fiercely on his hair before collapsing in a heap on the mattress.


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter Eleven

It was amazing how once he got started, he couldn't seem to get enough of her. The sight of her stuffing her mouth with the chocolate and peanut butter candy sent his senses reeling. Now, after finding her just as enticing as any confection could ever be, he knew that if he didn't get some kind of release, he was either going to explode on the bed while lying next to her, or lose his mind from sheer torture.

He had always been such a slow, controlled man when it came to sex. . .but not today. Today he felt out of control and without thinking of the repercussions he maneuvered himself until he was half-sitting next to her, leaning back against the headboard. He couldn't have stopped his hands from lifting her if you had offered him a million bucks. At this point, the capacity simply wasn't there. He pulled her against him, her limp body still coming down from the high he had just given her, but he needed her desperately. He moved her until she was facing him and he leaned down to meet her lips with his. When she finally opened her eyes, he looked at her imploringly then with an infinitesimal movement of his eyes, he expressed his wishes to her. He leaned more fully back against the pillows behind him and waited for her response. God, how many nights had he awakened in a sweat having dreamed about those perfect lips surrounding him; that gap-toothed smile scraping across his most sensitive skin. He felt himself tightening so completely that he thought he was going to lose it right there. When she merely looked at him, he raised his hand and slid his fingers through her curling hair.

His breath caught in his throat as he tried to speak words that he couldn't seem to stop, words that he would have never spoken to another woman. . .except, maybe. . .but he wouldn't think about that now. Now he was where he wanted to be, with whom he wanted to be with, and he wasn't going to fight against it anymore. Still, his throat seemed parched as the words passed between his lips in a coaxing whisper.

"You don't know how much I've wanted you to do this."

Her smile turned seductive and she leaned against him and let her fingertips trace his jaw, move down over the thick column of his neck and travel on to his chest. She watched her fingers dance down across his abdomen and the sensitivity tightened the muscles she found there . He could feel his length, now so hard that it was pressed firmly against his abdomen and he feared that if she would try to move it to perform the act he was practically praying for, it would snap right off from being so brittle! She traced her fingers down along the sides of his hardness, not touching it, but moving on to the insides of his thighs instead and bringing an exasperated growl from him.

"You're teasing," he breathed as he reached down with one hand and captured her fingers, then with the other hand, he stroked the back of her head.

"Teasing?" she asked quietly. "So, is this what you're waiting for?"

She leaned down and kissed his navel, letting her tongue dance inside as he could feel the tip of his hardness brushing against her cheek.

"Yesss. . ."

"Mm-hmm," she crooned as she turned her face and flicked her tongue out to slide over the tip of him and he felt himself jump. "Do you know how long I've waited to do this?"

"No." He squeezed his eyes closed as she lifted him far enough to slide his head between her lips and when she slid her tongue around it and gave a few gentle sucks, his hips automatically bucked in response. "Not nearly as long as I've been dreaming about you doing it."

"Don't bet on it," she breathed against him then took a firmer hold and lowered her head down, taking as much of him into her mouth as she could manage before he struck the back of her throat.

His moan erupted from him as he pressed himself back into the pillows while his hips began shaking from the effort it was taking to remain submissive. The sensations of her tongue and teeth working together with her lips and fingers had him thrusting his head back and suddenly turning it from side to side. Then there was nothing as she released him and he opened his eyes to look at her.

"Whats. . .what's wrong?" He asked as she looked at him. "Why. . .did you stop?"

"I should be asking 'you' what's wrong. Is it that bad?" She asked.

"Of course not!"

"Then why aren't you allowing yourself to respond?"

"I—I am." He stared at her in disbelief. How could she imagine that he wasn't responding? Hell, he was doing everything in his power not to "over-respond" and hurt her. Then it occurred to him that she was talking about precisely that and he could feel color enter his cheeks. "I—I was told that 'ladies' don't like to be manhandled. I was told that a lady shouldn't even be aware that she was doing such a thing by the time she was finished—so I was to keep myself under control and touch her as little as possible—it would enhance the experience."

"Grissom, have you ever had a blowjob by anyone other than this 'lady?" Sara asked with raised brows of suspicion.

"Um—yes—of course. When I was much younger, but they were over so quickly I hardly had time to react the way I wanted to. And, well, the other 'lady' informed me that the real pleasure was to be gained if I contained myself."

"Mm-hmm," Sara said thoughtfully, but there was something about her expression that told him he was treading on a very sensitive area. She remained where she was lying, then without looking back at him, took hold of his erection and moved back toward it. "I'm going to say this once—and only once, Grissom. When I'm in your bed—you had better be aware that it's 'me' in your bed and not some one I have no desire to even think about, let alone talk about. I might add, that if you prefer her ministrations, I suggest you go back to it. But, I'm also suggesting that this is your opportunity to react the way you want—keeping in mind that I am a woman who would rather be 'manhandled' than 'woman-handled!"

This time when she went directly to pleasuring him, he didn't hesitate to place a hand on each side of her face. He didn't force her per se, but he guided her. He urged her to go faster when it pleased him, or slower when he preferred that. If she was maneuvering an area that was making him see stars, he let her know that as well. He practically didn't have time to consider how she was moving over him, her eagerness to perform this act turning her body from one position to another until they were tangled in each other's limbs. Still, he held back when his body told him that its most adamant need was to move in rhythm with her until with a simple combination of a scrape of her teeth, a pressure of her tongue, vacuum from her lips and a rumbling growl from the depths of her throat, she sent him onto a frenzy that had him clutching onto her. He did things he never had been unguarded enough to do to another person and as she clutched him back, he knew she was reveling in this power. He hardly was aware of his position on the bed until he yelled with such abandon that it was a wonder the neighbors weren't complaining. When he came, his explosion was so strong that he couldn't move away from its source and he continued to empty himself as he practically engulfed her in his arms. The sight of her with her arms now holding onto his hips, struggling to maintain her rhythm with a hunger that amazed him, sent him on a climactic ending so powerful he wondered for a moment if he'd actually survive it.

"Sara," he said weakly as he lay on his stomach, the reality of what he had just done hitting him and rolling over him. "Sara?"

"Shh," she whispered against his shoulder as her lips moved over his back, then moved downward until she met the firmness of his buttocks and she gently kissed that as well. "Take your time. I'm right here."

He slowly turned onto his back and looked down to where she moved to lie between his legs with her chin propped on her hands as they lay across his abdomen. He could see a very satisfied expression covering her face as she watched him in return. Her lips were swollen and he felt a surge of guilt overcome him, but she must have read his expression as she dipped her head and kissed his stomach before looking back at him again. He touched her cheek with his fingertips and let his thumb slide over her injured lips.

"Did I hurt you?" He whispered.

"Many times," she smiled. "But if you mean physically, then no. I'm fine."

"I've never. . .reacted quite so. . ." His mouth snapped shut, not knowing how to verbalize his thoughts.

"It sounds to me, Dr. Grissom," she said quietly as she slowly started to crawl up his body, "like you've never 'reacted'—period! I'm glad I was the one to witness it."

"Is that what you called it?" he asked sleepily as she lay on top of him and he put his arms around her waist. "Witnessing it? In a matter of cause and effect—you were quite clearly the cause."

"You look tired," she told him as she nestled her head against his shoulder and he pulled the blanket up over them.

"Cause and effect, my dear." He took the simple pleasure in letting his thumbs stroke the softness of the small of her back and before too long, he heard her even breathing, then he soon joined her in an exhausted slumber.


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter Twelve

Grissom rubbed his hand over his bearded face in an attempt to rub the sleep from his eyes, then glanced around the semi-darkness of the room. The sight of Sara standing at the foot of the bed, leaning back against the dresser in the tightest fitting jeans he had ever lay eyes on, and a black blouse that showed him that her breasts were anything but too small, sent his senses reeling. Dammit! He had just had one of the most mind-blowing episodes of sex he had ever experienced in his lifetime, only two hours ago, and he was already getting a hard-on that was tenting the sheet that was draped over his midsection. She was nibbling on her lip as she was watching his "awakening" even though her eyes never made it up any farther than his waistline, and when he saw how her tongue flicked out across those lips, he groaned with pure pleasure at the memory of just what those lips and tongue were capable of. Her eyes darted up to his face, pink spreading across her cheeks as she realized he had witnessed her checking him out.

"You're up," she said, rather lamely.

"In more ways than one," he said in a husky, sleep-laced voice.

"I—um—thought maybe we could go out and get some dinner. If you don't want to go, I could make a run to the McDonalds down the road."

"The closest McDonalds is about thirty miles south of here. It's hardly worth it." He lifted himself on his elbow as he watched her fidget before him. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine."

"Hmm." He moved until he was leaning against the headboard with some pillows shoved behind his back. "I think you should come back here."

"But. . .I'm. . .hungry," she said reluctantly.

"I'll order food in." He couldn't seem to pull his eyes from where the her blouse opened above her breasts. It seemed as if he could easily spend the rest of the evening nibbling on that area of her body.

"I don't think the Bates Motel has room service." She crossed her arms as she watched him. "You're sitting there telling me that you aren't hungry?"

"I just ate, didn't I?" he asked and chuckled at the way her cheeks flared with embarrassment before she rolled her eyes and slowly moved until she was sitting on the edge of the bed next to him.

"Well, so did I, if you put it that way—but I'm still hungry." She paused when she heard a rumble come from his stomach and she smiled at him. "And so are you. Evidently I'm not enough to sustain life for very long."

"That's debatable." He slid his hand along her thigh, then noticed how her eyebrow rose and a look of mischievousness crossed her features before she moved her fingers to undo the top button of her blouse.

"Maybe I can convince you that you really should get up and come to dinner with me."

His gaze followed her attempt to coerce him as it opened one button, then slowly moved on to the next. His smile broadened.

"Are you saying that if I get up and go with you, you'll reveal more of those magnificent mounds to me?"

"Mmm-hmm," she hummed as the second button came undone, but before she could move on to the third, he had grabbed her and pulled her into his embrace and lowered his face so he could nuzzle between those creamy invitations. She yelped and tried to close her blouse again, but the more he nuzzled, the more she started to squeak and laugh until he lifted his head and smiled at her.

"Don't you think that would convince me to "stay here," rather than entice me to leave?"

"I didn't think of it that way," she laughed at him. "See, I'm so hungry that I'm not thinking straight." Another menacing growl escaped from his argumentative stomach.

"Fine—get up then." He released her and watched as she got to her feet and looked down at him. "I wouldn't want to be accused of depriving you of your nutrition."

She got to her feet and crossed her arms over her chest as she looked down at him. "You're only getting up because you realized "you" were hungry—aren't you?"

He merely gave her one of his most impressive smiles as he tossed the sheet back and got to his feet next to her. He couldn't resist the urge to give a small stretch as her eyes traveled over him. He wasn't a conceited man, by any means, but he wasn't against being appreciated when the opportunity arose—and the opportunity was more than presenting itself to her again. He watched her try her best not to drop her eyes below his stomach, but she lost her battle as she quickly looked at his erection.

"Miss Sidle, if you don't stand back and allow me to pass, we'll never get to dinner on time." He placed a hand on either of her arms and moved her backwards a step then grabbed some clothes from a bag he had brought back from the local store and disappear into the bathroom.

It only took Grissom a few minutes to make himself presentable in a pair of jeans and a white button-down shirt that he kept open at the neck and rolled the sleeves midway up his forearms. He joined her as she waited for him on the small porch in front of the door and placed his hand on the small of her back as he started in the direction of the main street of town. He sent her glances so often that it was a wonder he didn't trip over something, but he couldn't seem to take his eyes off of her. She was absolutely gorgeous, and the way she was looking back at him was both enchanting as well as sexier than hell. She was about to move toward a bar as they approached it, but he ushered her past it.

"I thought we were going to get something to eat?"

"Not in here." He continued to walk with her then turned the corner and started for the destination he had in mind. "I saw this place earlier today. I think its more suitable than the local saloon."

They continued to walk until they approached a small building that looked like a combination of a residence and restaurant. He was pleasantly surprised to find that the ambiance that of a formal establishment, although not formal enough to require a change in clothing. They were shown to a table toward the center of the building, but when Grissom nodded toward the empty table near the darkened corner of the room, the woman obliged and seated them where he desired.

"Very nice, Dr. Grissom," Sara said as she took her seat and watched as he did the same. "Do you make a habit of finding the finest dining in all the new towns you visit?"

"Only when I'm trying to impress someone." He turned to the woman who would be taking their order. "I'll have a coffee to start, please."

"Coffee," Sara agreed when her gaze turned to her. She handed them a menu then left their table to get their drinks and allow them time to choose their meals. "Well, it worked. I'm impressed."

"You should be. I even made sure they serve vegetarian dinners." He looked at her over the top of his menu and gave her a half-smile.

As they ate their meals, their gazes would travel often to one another. He couldn't seem to stop himself from savoring the sight of her milky cleavage that was contrasting against the black shirt she was wearing. When she would catch him looking, which she did quite often, he could see how her rate of breathing would increase and she would smile slightly. The smile held a promise of more to come and when they finally finished eating and the owner of the establishment questioned if they would like dessert, Grissom was pleased to see that Sara seemed more interested in the area of his neck and upper chest that was exposed than the chocolate delicacies being offered to them. They got to their feet and Grissom again placed his hand on the small of her back, but once outside, a member of the police department stopped them.

"Excuse me? Miss Sidle?" The young man questioned as he held his hat in his hands and stood before them, more closely resembling a teen in high school than the deputy that was suggested by his uniform.

"Yes."

"I was told by the sheriff that a member of the LVPD has been trying to contact you." He paused as if waiting for a response from Sara but when none was forthcoming, he continued. "Um, he said it wasn't urgent, though. So, you don't have to worry about it or anything. Just wanted to let you know."

"Um, okay. . ." Sara looked back at him with a polite smile. "Thank you. . .for the information."

"My pleasure, Miss Sidle." The boy gave her a smile that brightened his already pink-tinged cheeks. "If there's anything else I could do for you—please don't hesitate to let me know."

"I'll see that Miss Sidle contacts you immediately if she's in need of assistance," Grissom said somewhat sarcastically, bringing an amused look from Sara.

"Thank you." Sara said to the boy. "You're very kind."

"Yes, Ma'am. I—I mean—thank you, ma'am."

Grissom thought the boy was going to trip over his booted feet as he turned and attempted to go back in the direction he had come from.

"Well, you seem to have acquired an admirer here already," Grissom said as he shoved his hands in his pockets and they walked back toward the main street, then the motel.

"I seem to recall a certain buxom redhead in the diner who was flaunting her double Ds at you," Sara chuckled. "So, I wouldn't feel too bad for myself. You're doing quite well on your very own."

They managed to get inside their room before they heard Sara's cell going off, sending her toward the other side of the room where she looked at the caller ID, then glanced back at Grissom as she quietly answered.

"Yes. This is Sara." She turned away from Grissom as she continued her conversation. "Um—no, no. I—um—I'll let you know, okay? I'm not sure. Okay. Thanks. Bye."

Grissom eyed her carefully as she turned back to him and wore a nervous smile before tossing the phone on the nightstand. "Your person from the LVPD?"

"Uh—yeah. It was nothing important—like the deputy said." She turned and looked at him as he sat at the small table. "Not worth mentioning."

He reached down and pulled his shoes off and while he was sitting in the forward position, he grabbed onto her thighs, gently tugging her until she took the few steps to stand between his legs. Slowly, his gaze traveled up from the tightness of her jeans to where her blouse was buttoned. He slid his hands up the back of her legs, over her bottom and on to the blouse which he pulled, making it rise enough to expose her navel.

"God, Sara—everything about you is enticing!"

Without warning, he pressed a kiss to her stomach, bringing a gasp from her. She placed her hands on his shoulders and leaned into him and he could feel her pulse already racing. Slowly, he got to his feet, brushing gentle kisses at various areas of her body as he traveled upward. She looked into his eyes with a sparkle as her fingers toyed with the front of his shirt, slowly unbuttoning it and sliding her hand inside.

"Why, Gilbert. . .I do believe you're insatiable."

He leaned down and placed his lips on her gorgeous neck. "Mmm, I like the sound of that."

"Being insatiable?" she chuckled.

"That," he smiled against her. " . .but I meant my name. Gil will do, though. Gilbert is what my mother used to call me when she'd get mad."

"You'd make your mother mad?" she breathed as he continued to kiss her throat.

"Mmm-hmm." He moved his kiss up to her lips. "I don't really want to talk about my mother right now."

"Me either," she agreed quickly and put her arms around his neck, pulling him down onto the bed with her. "Let's not talk at all."

He grabbed onto the mattress to catch himself and avoid crashing down on top of her, then eased himself next to her, pulling her flush against him as his hand took pleasure in sliding up beneath her blouse and unhooking her bra. He pulled back to give himself the room needed to slide his hand to the front of her and release his treasure, but upon leaning back, she hooked her leg around his thigh and yanked him back against her. He groaned as his erection came in sharp contact with her groin and before he had a moment to think, he felt her hips moving against him. This time when he moaned it was with pleasure as his large hand spread over the round firmness of her bottom and held her against him even more tightly as she gyrated against him. He rolled onto his back, pulling her over with him, this time slipping his hands inside her shirt and pulling her bra free. He looked up at her face as she watched him, still moving her hips and pleasuring them both. Her shirt was opened in an instant and he lifted her until he grasped onto her mound of flesh and pulled her nipple into his eagerly awaiting mouth.

It took a moment for them to realize that the pounding they were listening to was coming from the door to their room. When they did, Sara froze, but Grissom pushed her onto her back and proceeded with what he had been doing.

"Ignore it," he said against her skin.

"Grissom!" she whispered harshly.

"Sara!" he whispered back, still insistent on continuing his task.

"Gil?" Sophia's voice sounded through the door, this time, stopping the couple on the bed as if they had been doused with a tub of ice water. "Gil, are you in there?"


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter Thirteen

Sara froze and Grissom groaned, dropping his head onto her chest for a moment, then quickly moving to get off the bed.

"Gil?"

"Yes," Grissom answered loudly as he started buttoning his shirt and moving toward the door. "I'll be right there."

Sara lifted herself up onto her elbows as she watched him open and close the door so quickly that he seemed to disappeared before her very eyes. It didn't take long to realize he was leaving with Sophia as she listened to their voices becoming more distant. Sara jumped off the bed and ran to the window, peeping out in time to see Grissom with his hand on the small of Sophia's back as he escorted her to the office where he put some money in the soda machine then handed whatever choice she made to her. She watched as he tilted his head toward the blonde's and shared some kind of joke as they both laughed. In an instant, Sara was redressed and slipping out the door just as quietly and quickly as Grissom had done before her. She was stuffing her blouse into her slacks as she watched Grissom and Sophia moseying back toward the truck where she was now standing.

"Hello, Sara," Sophia crooned as she stood so close to Grissom that Sara considered getting a crowbar out of the truck to separate them. "I didn't see you come out of your room. Is it next to Grissom's?"

"Uh—Sara, why don't you take Sophia up to the sheriff's office and go over the new collections. You can fill her in while I gather my samples from my room."

"That's alright, Grissom," Sophia told him. "I can go in and help you with your samples then we can go to the sheriff's after that. I'm sure you've worked Sara to the bone while she's been here. She looks tired. She could use a nap."

"I look tired?" Sara asked, feeling the hair standing erect on the back of her neck.

"I'd rather clean up in there before you come in, Sophia. I'm afraid I've got everything scattered all over."

"You know I don't mind that, Gil." Sophia smiled a knowing smile at Grissom and Sara could have shoved that grin down her damned throat. "I know your apartment isn't always in order. It has never bothered me."

"Just the same, I think Sara needs to bring you up to par and fill you in." He turned and looked her. "Sara."

"Fine," she said sarcastically as she gave him a faux smile. "I'll fill her in—then you can show her around your room."

"Thank you."

Sara started toward the back of the truck but noticed that Sophia wasn't accompanying her so she paused and looked back to find her leaning so close to Grissom's face that she expected her to shove her tongue down his throat at any second. The fact that he wasn't exactly pushing her away didn't pass her, either. Finally, with a smile, he put his hand on her elbow, then with his other, he gestured for her to follow Sara.

The trip to the sheriff's office was done quickly and efficiently and she couldn't help but notice how overly friendly Sophia was being toward her. She reminded herself to watch her back—or watch Grissom's front—either way, the blonde was out to do something that would put her in Grissom's good graces. By the time they were walking back to the motel she found Grissom standing outside their room with his hands shoved in his pockets. Upon sight of them, he pulled something shiny up for Sara to take.

"Sara, you dropped your key. You should be more careful."

Sara took the object in question and looked at the number on it, and as Sophia had suggested over an hour before, her room was on the other side of the motel.

"You're right," Sara said coldly. "I should be more careful. I'll make sure that I am in the future."

"It's a shame Conrad felt it essential to send you all the way out here to recover our spare evidence. We could have just as easily brought it back ourselves in the morning." Grissom turned toward Sophia. "You must be very tired after such a long drive this time of night."

"Oh, I'm "very" tired. I could definitely use a bed right now." Sophia eyed Grissom as if she could devour him.

He put his hand on her back again and started walking with her, but when he didn't go in the direction of his room, she looked at him questioningly. Instead of answering her silent inquisition, he turned and looked at Sara. She got the hint that he intended to take Sophia to "her" room, so she moved up and walked ahead of them.

"You might want to go over the photos Sara has." Grissom entered the room behind the women.

Sara looked around, noting that he had put all her things away, as if she had been staying in the room all along. He even went so far as to rumple the blankets on the bed so Sophia would presume that was where she had slept the last few nights.

"Sara?" Sophia asked as she waited by the small table near the entrance to the room. "Photos?"

"Yeah, photos."

Sara moved to the envelope of prints she had received that afternoon and started placing them out on the table for the blonde woman's inspection. She heard her cell going off, but before she could turn to grab it, Grissom picked it up and took it into the bathroom. Since he didn't return right away with her call, she figured it must be Catherine and he was filling her in on their progress, so she went back to showing the photos to Sophia. After a few more minutes she looked up as Grissom returned to the room. She watched as he approached her with the cell in his hand and noticed that it was closed. Whomever it was ended the call already. She looked up at him in question and noticed the indifference he was showing toward her as he pushed it into her hands before turning his attention back to Sophia.

"Important call?" Sophia asked.

"Important to Sara, evidently." He turned and looked at her. "It seems Dective Cavaliere would like a repeat of Saturday night. He said something about hoping I don't keep you out here too long so you can spend this Saturday night at his place as well."

"Ah," Sophia giggled. "It looks like romance is in the air for our little Sara."

"I don't know how romantic it was, but evidently he thought it was good enough for a repeat." Grissom grumbled, then started looking more closely at the photos as he sat at the table.

Sara recalled the night he was talking about, but it wasn't in the same context that he was putting it. She had been out with Nick and Greg when they ran into Chris and moved their little party to Cavaliere's apartment where the four of them proceeded to play poker until three in the morning. The most romantic event was when Greg won fifty bucks and planted a sloppy kiss on the stack of ones he scooped up.

"We played. . ." Sara began and Sophia spoke up again.

"Detective Cavaliere? Who would have suspected he was interested in. . . Well, it's nice to know you're getting out more, Sara." Sophia took the seat that was so close to Grissom's that their thighs were touching.

"Yes, well, Sara needs to find something to get her mind off of work," Grissom said without looking up at her.

"Speaking of getting your mind off of work—I reserved the back booth at Resignos for this weekend. I think that would be just the ticket to get "my" mind off of the job." She leaned closer to Grissom and Sara wondered if she was actually going to climb onto his lap in front of her. "We had such a pleasant time the last time we. . ."

"Ya know what?" Sara broke in, tired of not only hearing Sophia's blatant attempts to practically consume the curly-haired man next to her, but watching how he seemed to be eating the attention up as well. "I really think you've got this case under control, Grissom. And now that you've got Sophia here to help you—there's more than enough manpower to cover what's left. If you both will excuse me, I think I'm going to head back to town. I've got some things I need to attend to."

Grissom finally lifted his head and looked at her and his expression was anything but pleasant. "I don't recall telling you that I didn't need you to help finish out the case."

"I think it's a good idea," Sophia spoke up. "You can get ready for your night with Chris. Like I said, you really look like you could use a good night's sleep."

"Thank you for your concern," Sara spoke dully. "I'll make sure I get that sleep once I'm back in bed—in Vegas."

"Excuse me, ladies, but as far as I'm aware, I'm still in charge here and the only bed you're going to be occupying tonight is right here in this room. You "are" still under m supervision."

"Fine!" Sara moved to the bed nearest the wall and flopped down with her back against the headboard and her arms resting on her knees. "I'll sleep where you order me to sleep—tonight. But if I'm in such desperate need of sleep—then I think you both should leave and allow me to get some."

"Alright," Sophia got to her feet and started collecting the photos.

"I think we've gone over enough for tonight. Sophia, it looks like you get the bed nearest the door. I'll see you both in the morning." Grissom started for the door, leaving a stunned Sophia behind him.

"But—I thought. . ."

"Goodnight."

Both women watched the door close behind him and within fifteen seconds, Sophia was on her cell, mumbling something into the phone that she evidently didn't want Sara to hear. Within another minute, she was handing the phone to her.

"Sara—Conrad would like to speak to you."

Sara glared at Sophia then took the phone. "Sidle."

"Sara, Sophia tells me that you requested to leave the case."

"There didn't seem to be any point in all three of us being here. We've gathered everything we need. It's just a matter of formality that we close up shop and head home anyway."

"That's what Sophia told me. So, if you want to head back tonight, we could get started on the evidence you bring back with you. I'm sure Sophia is too tired to drive back after driving all the way there. When can the lab expect you?"

Sara looked at the clock and saw that it was 11:30. "By the time I get everything put in the truck, I'll probably be back around four."

"Good. I'll alert Catherine that you're on your way."

"But Grissom said. . ."

"I'm overriding Grissom on this one. The sooner we get those collections, the better."

Sara gave the phone back to a rather smug-looking Sophia, then went about gathering her things. She didn't know what she expected when she initiated this eventful time with Grissom—but she certainly didn't expect Sophia to show up and have Grissom handed to her on a silver platter—or the fact that Grissom, himself, would climb up onto that platter and present himself to her as a prized offering. Who was she kidding? He got rid of any evidence of her so quickly that it's a wonder he didn't pull a muscle. He made it abundantly clear that he wanted Sophia to know nothing about what had transpired between the two of them. Just as he made it clear that he was still in a relationship with the blonde woman and wasn't going to jeopardize it by admitting he had stooped so low as to do the dirty deed with Sara Sidle. Fine, Sara thought as she jammed her bags into the truck then moved around and started it. "If he's so concerned about protecting Sophia's feelings—she can have him!"


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14

Grissom lay on his bed in his room. His mind was on the brunette who was now at the other end of the motel. He didn't know she was packing to leave, he only knew that he was pushing her away again. And why? Because she had a past? He was never one to consider a woman's past. Hell, if that were the case, he certainly wouldn't have spent the night at Heather's. But the fact that Sara was involved with Detective Chris Cavaliere tore at him. He didn't like it when she was seeing that jerk, the paramedic guy—Hank. But now, he felt even more threatened. He knew Cavaliere would have more in common with Sara than Hank had. Grissom knew he was a better guy in general—no fiancés in the background that he could be double-timing Sara with. So, when he looked at it closer, he guessed he was taking her past involvements into consideration and it was eating him up. It was probably the probability that it might just not be a "past involvement" but might also be something that's going to continue.

He had been so damned smug the past few days. Once he got past the struggle and finally pushed himself over the edge into Sara's embrace, he had been arrogant enough to actually think that she would be completely captivated and so enraptured that she wouldn't be able to see past the edge of their bed. Not that he was convinced he excelled in the art of lovemaking—what he was convinced of was Sara's devotion and almost hero worship. Now he wasn't nearly so sure.

The fact that Sophia showed up at the most inopportune time threw him into a panic. The last thing he wanted was for the pushy blonde to know what he and Sara had been up to for a good portion of their time in this town. They would be reprimanded severely for using company time to . . . get to know each other much better. They most probably would even get suspended for several days without pay. He couldn't blame them, actually. It was what he would do if he found any of his crew in such a position. That's one reason you don't cross the line with fellow employees; the temptation to satisfy baser needs before completing your assignment is too high. But once he got a taste of Sara, once he crossed that invisible barrier, he couldn't stop. He couldn't go back. . .until Sophia barged in.

He didn't know what else to do, so he acted on pure instinct. He had to get Sophia out of there so he could protect Sara's character. He knew Sophia—he knew she was ruthless when it came to getting what she wanted, and for some God awful reason, she wanted "him" at this time. He didn't doubt that she'd do anything to take Sara down and get her out of her path, under the presumption that she could have easier access to Grissom if Sara were out of the picture.

So, he did the only thing he could think of—send the two women away so he could come up with a plan. The plan occurred to him when he saw some people leaving the motel and in no time at all he was in the office, paying for an extra room that he knew had become available. The fact that it was on the opposite side of the motel from his room wasn't coincidental. It actually cost him an extra two hundred dollars to get a family to move from that side into the room closer to his. With Sara on the other side of the motel, there was less of a likelihood that they would be spending their spare time together.

Everything would have been fine if he hadn't picked up her cell phone and listened to that idiot describing how he was looking forward to spending this weekend with Sara at his place again. He listened to Cavaliere go on and on about how Sara wasn't what she presented herself to be, that behind that dignified persona that she usually presented herself as, was a vixen who got down and played as dirty as anyone he's ever had at his place Saturday evenings. He went on to tell Grissom that everything was arranged, just as they had planned last weekend: the drinks, the food, the music and the lighting would be just right—perfect for the occasion. Oh, and if he happened to have the opportunity—tell Sara that he was going to get her back so bad that she'd be begging him for mercy by the time they'd be into their first hour of the game. Just what "play" and "games" Cavaliere was talking about—Grissom didn't want to know! The dirty bastard had no right boasting about his conquest with Sara! But then, he thought, if he could—he'd probably have shouted it from the rooftops that he had finally been intimate with Sara Sidle! How could he blame anyone else for falling for her, when he not only fell for her—he practically dove right in to the "love pool!"

So he got a little testy with Sara. He couldn't help it. It cut him like a knife knowing she had been intimate with Cavaliere and knowing that she planned on going there again in a matter of a few days. So he taunted her with Sophia's infatuation with him. It served her right! Let her feel a fraction of what he was going through when he imagined what kind of "games" she was planning to play with Cavaliere. No! He wouldn't go there! He would simply zone back out of this damned situation he had gotten himself into. He had done it before—plenty of times. Look at Heather—that was a huge mistake—he knew it even before he had left the following morning, even though he didn't let her see it. It was easy walking away from that situation. So, he should have no problem walking away from this one!

He turned over onto his back and stared at the ceiling. The image of Sara, bare of any clothes, straddling him and moaning with glorious ecstasy as she rode him, sent a jolt straight from his gut and into his backbone so sharply he felt as if he had been shot! Dammit! It wasn't going to be as easy as he thought! He needed some fresh air. He practically threw himself from the bed and strode across the room, throwing back the door just in time to see Sara closing the door to the truck and starting the ignition.

Son-of-a-bitch! He was next to the passenger's door in an instant and yanking it open and earning him the pleasure of hearing her yelp in surprise.

"What are you doing?" He asked sharply.

"Grissom! Jesus Christ! Don't do that!"

"I asked—what are you doing? I told you not to go back to Vegas. I still need you here."

"Do you?" She slammed the gear into reverse and revved the motor, indicating he should move away from the vehicle so she didn't strike him with the door as she backed away from the building. "It seems to me that you don't "need" me anymore. You've found yourself a blonde replacement. Now move! I'm leaving."

"You're not leaving!"

"Oh, yes I am," she said in a low, gravelly voice that demanded that he try to debate it. She didn't hesitate this time to let off the brakes and the truck started to move backwards, its door striking his shoulder and prompting him to jump onto the seat and yank the door closed behind him. "I said move! I didn't say to move into the damned truck!"

"Well now, you didn't specify, did you?" he said sarcastically as she slammed on the brakes again and stared at him. "What's the matter? Don't like your new roommate? Not as entertaining as your last one?"

They had stopped across the parking lot, in the darkness, but he could still see Sara's eyes grow huge as she stared at him and he realized she had taken his meaning completely wrong. He was talking about himself and Cavaliere.

"You son-of-a-bitch! I don't know what kind of kinky shit you and Sophia are into—but it damned well will not involve me! If you need another woman to appease her appetite and so you can get your jollies off with a threesome—go talk to Heather Kessler! I heard she's not opposed to maximum participation!"

"Heather?" he said stupidly. He didn't know Sara was even aware of Heather. "Don't bring Heather into this. And I wasn't talking about any such thing! I wasn't talking about Sophia at all. I was talking about "you" and . . ."

"Are you trying to tell me that you don't think she's just waiting for the opportunity to run to your bedside? Don't play me for a fool!"

"Of course I know. But this isn't about Sophia."

"Isn't it?" she asked as she stared out the front of the windshield, then nodded to the person making her way up the walkways until she stopped in front of Grissom's door. "It certainly looks like it is."

Together they watched as Sophia knocked on the door, then tried the knob. Grissom winced when he realized he hadn't had time to pull it completely closed before he saw Sara trying to leave. Sophia pushed the door open, then entered and turned to close the door behind her, clearly showing satisfaction upon her task.

"Hmph," Grissom shrugged as he watched the door close. "Imagine that."

Sara turned her glare onto Grissom, sat silent for a second or two as if she didn't know what to do, then started to growl at him. "Get out! Go back in there! I'm sure she can occupy your time until you wrap up the case!"

"I'm sure she can," Grissom looked back at her blankly. "But I'm not in there—am I? I'm out here in the Denali with you—so she's not going to be occupying my time—is she?"

Another growl, louder this time as Sara's frustration and anger nearly exploded and she reached across him and yanked on the door handle then tried to shove him out of the vehicle. In her rush to push him out, she forgot to put the truck into "park" or to simply stay on the brake and the Denali surged backwards, tossing both Sara and Grissom halfway out the door as they lost their balance. Grissom was the first to react as he wrapped his arms around Sara and watched them approaching the fence faster than he would like—and the fact that the top half of his body was hanging out of the vehicle didn't add to his comfort level. The crash stopped the truck with a bounce and before he realized it, he was lying on the ground, at least ten feet from where the truck stalled and Sara was lying between his legs.

"Ouch," she mumbled as she attempted to get up, then decided against it and lay back down with her head against his stomach.

"Are you okay?" He asked as he tried to sit up, but moaned when he felt the pain in his shoulder.

"That was a stupid thing to do," she answered without looking up at him. "Do you think Princess Sophia heard the bang?"

"I don't know!" He answered, not caring at that moment if the damned woman heard or not. "I asked if you were okay?"

"I think I hurt my knees. I'm afraid to check." She lifted herself on her elbows over him and looked at him. "Are you okay?"

"Of course. I'm used to crazy females throwing me out of a moving vehicle—then to double the impact, they jump out on top of me."

"I am not crazy! So if you're used to "this" happening with your other harem members. . ." She tried to get up, but winced again as she moved onto her knees while at the same time he tried to sit up but grunted with pain. Her eyes softened as she looked at him. "You're not okay. You're hurt."

"So are you," he answered quietly then turned them until they were lying face-to-face on their sides. "You're a total calamity, do you realize that?"

"Only when you do something stupid to instigate me," she said indignantly but sighed when she felt his fingers touch her neck as his thumb stroked her cheek. "Why are you doing this? You should be inside, lying on a warm mattress—not out here, lying on hard gravel."

He merely smiled back at her as he continued to watch her gorgeous eyes.

"Uh—excuse me," came a voice from several parking spots down. "Are you two alright? Should I call 911?"

"No," Grissom said with irritation. He hadn't noticed anyone else in the parking lot and was not pleased with their interruption. "We're fine. We've only had minor accident. We'll take care of it ourselves."

"Okay," the man stated then closed his window and turned back to what could only be described as a ghost-town hooker. She looked like she walked directly out of Flo's Diner with her gargantuan hair and low-cut blouse.

They looked back at one another and slowly moved to get to their feet, each aiding the other until they moved to the Denali and grabbed the key. They were both limping slightly but they stopped when they realized they didn't know where to go. Finally, they started walking toward Grissom's room but stopped before opening the door.

"Do you think we should just go in?" Sara asked doubtfully. "Who knows what she's doing in there—especially since she's expecting you to come to her at any moment."

"Maybe we should go back to your room. If she's here—we wont have to put up with her down there."

"I left my key in the room."

He let out a deep breath and turned toward the office. "I'll get a copy."

Within another five minutes they were both stepping over the doorway and into the lighted room that now contained only some photos that were still spread out on the small table, and Sophia's night bag that was opened on the end of the bed. Sara glanced inside and started to giggle.

"What's the matter, big guy?" She grabbed a hand full of tissues and reached into the bag to retrieve a purple replica of male genitalia. "Not quite good enough to satisfy her?"

"How in the hell would I know?" He was thoroughly embarrassed. "Put that away! It's personal!"

"She let it sitting out here or everyone to see—and evidently for "you" to use on her—how personal can it be?"

"If she planned on me using it on her—then why is it down here while she's up at my room?" He asked with a raised brow and picked up the bag, held it open beneath the angry-looking device and waited until she dropped it inside before closing it and tossing it onto the floor. "You've got a filthy mind."

She raised her head and looked at him indignantly. "You didn't seem to care about the state of my mind when we were. . ."

"Alright—point taken." He took her by the elbow and moved with her until she was sitting on the end of the bed, revealing jeans that showed signs of having been scuffed along the gravel at her knees. "Do you want to take them off and put an antibiotic on them?"

"I don't think I need antibiotic." She got to her feet and pushed her pants down over her hips, then sat down and allowed him to pull them off her legs. She grimaced as they came in contact with her knees.

"They look okay. Maybe an ice pack would help?"

"I'm fine. What about you? You seem to be favoring your right shoulder."

"It took the brunt of the hit when we landed. That and, well, my. . ."

This softened Sara's expression as she found the humor in the situation. "Your butt. Well, I could always check and see if it needed some antibiotic ointment spread on it."

He smiled back as he stooped between her injured knees. "How about your backside? Should I check it for injuries?"

"I didn't land on my back. I landed on my front."

"I can just as easily check that area." He told her as he reached for her thighs in an attempt to slide his hands up them and grasp onto her panties.

"What the hell's going on here?" Sophia's voice seethed as she pushed the door so hard it banged against the wall.


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter 15

Sara jerked in startled surprise but Grissom merely turned his head slowly to glare at Sophia. Sophia took two steps inside and glared right back at them.

"That's what I would like to know," Grissom got to his feet and turned to face the blonde woman. "Clearly, my employee was so tired that she wrecked our vehicle while trying to return to town. So—I'd like to know just "why" she got it into her head to leave—especially after I instructed her that she was needed here."

Sophia took a step back as she stared at him, looked at Sara, then back at him while she placed her hands on her hips.

"Don't you think you should be asking her?" She asked defensively.

"I tried, but it was a little difficult for her to answer after she was injured. So—I'm asking you."

"Injured?" Sophia asked with a high-pitched voice which was extremely unusual for her. "Is that what you call it? Sitting here half-naked with you between her legs? Injured? The only thing injured on her is her over-inflated image of herself! She's so hard-up, she's pretending to be hurt just to gain your sympathy. Rather a cheap trick, don't ya think?""

Sara let out a sound that could have been associated with the growl of a dog about to attack, then started to lurch to her feet but Grissom stopped her abruptly when he put his hand on the top of her head to hold her in place. He remained focused on Sophia as he kept Sara from getting to her feet. The awkwardness of his hold provoked Sara even farther as she batted at his hand a few times until he finally moved it from the top of her head.

"Of course she's injured. Did you even see the Denali? She was thrown from it and hurt both knees. I was just examining them when you walked in. She clearly needs to be x-rayed to make sure she didn't fracture anything."

"Yeah," Sara finally spoke up as she looked at Sophia. "I need x-rays!"

"She doesn't need x-rays! She's fine!"

"Oh, how would you know?" Sara barked, bringing Grissom's hand back on her head as he continued to look at Sophia. "Now you're a damned orthopedist? Get your hand off my head!"

"No, I'm not an orthopedist!" Sophia glared back at her as she swatted at Grissom's hand again. "But I can certainly tell when a woman's faking it or not!"

This made both Sara and Grissom pause and stare at her before Grissom added dumbly, "You can?"

"That is NOT what I meant!" Sophia gasped then glared at Grissom this time. "If you want a woman who can tell when another woman's faking it—go ask your friend, Heather."

This brought an honest giggle from Sara before Grissom turned slowly to look at her with disapproval.

"Well, she's right about that one," Sara said under her breath then looked back at Sophia with renewed vigor. "But still! You have no idea what condition my legs are in." She jerked her head away from Grissom's hand. "Get your damned hand off my head!"

"Oh, the hell I don't!" Sophia nearly growled as she charged past Grissom and lifted Sara's foot into the air to inspect her injuries, bringing a yelp from the brunette before she dropped her foot on the floor again. "See! She isn't injured!"

"Goddammit, that hurt!" Sara blared at her as she attempted to get to her feet again but Grissom held her firmly in place.

"The only reason that hurt was because you're legs are so out of shape they can't stand a good stretch!"

"A good stretch?" Sara's eyes turned evil as she started to chuckle. "Is that what you call it? A good stretch?"

"Sara," Grissom warned quietly, although not putting much effort into it.

"We found your little toy you brought with you, Soph! Although I wouldn't call it "little" but I would say it gives you a good stretch."

"Ah, shit," Grissom breathed as he watched Sophia's eyes move toward the bag on the floor, as if realizing for the first time that her "accessories" weren't where she had left them.

"You bitch!" Sophia gasped as she grabbed the bag and started toward Sara again. She swung the bag at her but Grissom stepped in the way and grunted at the impact of it hitting his gut.

"PUT THAT. . .THING. . .DOWN!" Grissom roared, turning a very red-faced Sophia to look at him.

"It's not what you think! It isn't mine! Really!"

"Yeah," Sara agreed quietly. "That's why it's got the initials SC inscribed in gold lettering around the testicles."

"Oooh!" Sophia went toward Sara again but Grissom grabbed the bag this time and tossed it back on the floor, stopping Sophia mid-flight. "Enough! Now! Sophia! Sara "isn't" fine. She took quite a fall out there. We both did. So, if you'll excuse us, we're going to the local emergency room to get checked out." He took a step back from Sara and picked up her jeans. "Put these on."

"Well, what am I supposed to do while you're off getting "x-rayed"?" Sophia asked sarcastically.

"You—can stay here and wait for us—and go over the photos again. I'm sure with your expertise, you'll find something we've missed."

"Yeah," Sara grumbled as she pulled up her pants and started walking toward the door in front of Grissom. "that's likely."

"Well, maybe I should drive you to the emergency room," Sophia suggested as she started to follow them to the door, but Grissom warded her off with a wave of his hand.

"No. I need you to stay here. It's obvious that I wont be getting any more work out of Sara—at least you can pick up the pieces until we get finished."

Sophia looked at Sara smugly before Grissom pulled the door closed and started walking with Sara toward the Denali, noting how it seemed to be parked awkwardly over a small ditch and its rear-end shoved up against the fence.

They walked silently until they were standing directly in front of the truck, then Sara turned to look at Grissom with doubt.

"I don't think we're going to make it to the hospital without calling a tow-truck first."

"I think we can maneuver it out of there."

"Uh—Grissom, I'm not pushing that thing. That's what triple A is for."

He simply smiled at her and walked toward the driver's side where he opened the door for her. "Come on, get in. It'll be fun."

She hesitantly approached him then slid inside and turned the ignition. "Your idea of fun isn't the same as mine."

"Okay, straighten the wheels, now ease it forward."

Sara pressed on the accelerator but instead of "easing" it forward, it roared with energy and surged forward, bouncing the back tires over the ditch so hard that it made the engine stall again.

"Ow!" came Sara's voice as Grissom moved up to where she was now sitting and rubbing an area over her forehead.

"You okay?" he asked as he looked in the door at her. "I said to "ease" it forward—not floor it."

"Well, I got it out of the ditch, didn't I?"

"Yes. But you've smashed the underside so hard, I don't trust it. The way it came down, I wouldn't be surprised if you didn't rupture the gas tank."

"Should we call HAZMAT?"

"Pull it around to the other side of the motel—out behind my room." He closed the door and spoke to her through the open window. "I put down one of our tarps and you can drive over it until it's under the tank. If it's leaking it should tell us immediately. Then we'll see about going to that emergency room."

Within ten minutes Sara and Grissom were walking around the edge of the motel and heading back to his room where the lighting was much more adequate. Sara suspected that he would allow her to more thoroughly inspect his wound on his shoulder before taking Sophia's vehicle to the hospital for the care he needed. Contrary to what she had said to Sophia earlier, she knew she wasn't harmed enough to warrant a trip to the emergency room. But, if Grissom needed to go. . .

"Close the door," he commented as he moved across the room and turned on the light to the bathroom.

"Would you like me to look at it for you? I didn't realize it was so bad you would need to go to the hospital."

Sara moved into the bathroom with him as he unbuttoned his shirt and pulled his arms out of it. She could see where it was scraped and beginning to bruise and she couldn't seem to stop her hand from rising to touch the damaged skin.

"It isn't," he hissed upon contact, then continued to remove his shirt, tossing it onto the luggage rack when it was completely removed. "What about you? You said your knees needed x-rayed."

"No," she said quietly. "Then why?"

"Because if she thinks we're at the hospital, she won't be looking for us." He turned and looked at her. "I don't want her listening in on what I wanted to say. It's private."

"Okay."

"I, actually, didn't want to tell you either, but it seems at this point, there is no way around it."

"Okay," she said again, fearing what he was about to talk to her about. "No way around. . .what?"

He stared at her a long moment then looked past her as if in indecision. When he finally looked back at her again, she knew he had come to a conclusion to his problem, whatever that was. Her eyes grew large as he took a quick step and grabbed her upper arm, not pausing as he pulled her along with him into the sleeping area. Once at the side of the bed he stopped and turned her in his arms. He grasped onto her face with both hands and held her firmly as his mouth lowered to hers and he began devouring her. Finally, he pushed her back and lowered her onto the bed as he came down with her.

"There's no way around telling you that I can't seem to stop myself tonight—even knowing you're going to go running back to Cavaliere," he whispered into her ear before moving his lips to her neck and throat.

"No, Griss," Sara breathed, knowing she wanted to dispel that idea from his mind but the more she lay there and he worked his magic with his lips and tongue as well as the hand he was using to investigate her upper body, the more she couldn't quite voice or even remember what it was that she wanted to tell him.

"Yes, Sara," he whispered again and moved his hand down over her stomach, sliding his fingers inside her jeans and beneath the elastic of her panties.

She turned against him, pressed against him and opened her legs on instinct but the act tightened her jeans across his hands and denied him the access he was seeking. He lifted his head and looked down at her face, then down farther to where his hand disappeared beneath the denim and in a split second he was on his knees next to her.

"Griss?" She was alarmed until she watched his hands go to his own belt and start to open his pants.

"Take off your pants," he urged.

She didn't need to be told twice as she unbuttoned and unzipped her bottoms, lifted her hips to push them then, yelped when he grabbed her feet and tried to yank them the rest of the way off.

"My shoes!" She watched the frustration cover his face as he fought with the sneakers she was wearing.

"Fuck!" Another two seconds and he had them tossed on the floor, then pulled the jeans off her legs. He held onto her calves and spread her legs on each side of him then positioned himself on his way down to her. She gasped at the quick intrusion and the power behind it. He took two more strokes then buried his forehead against her shoulder and she knew he was trying to slow himself. "Now," he breathed. "what were you saying?"

She moaned as he took long, slow stroke. "I—I don't know."

"Something about. . .no?" He moved inside of her again as his powerful arms encircled her.

"No?"

"You don't want this?" He continued, bringing his eyes up to meet his before she grasped onto him and pulled him even closer. Her mouth found his, nibbling and tasting those incredibly sensual lips until he couldn't seem to hold back any longer. His hips moved against her and he closed his eyes with the effort it took not to ram into her. "Tell me you want this."

"Yesss," she hissed as she started to buck her hips against him and causing him to groan before he finally dipped his head down and resumed their kiss.

Their session was fast and furious, each doubting the other's sincerity but not willing to give up their obsession with each other. Sara climaxed first, finding it amazing that he had the capability to make her come without external stimulation. She knew that he fit her perfectly, the size of him causing the pressure exactly where she needed it. It didn't hurt that his kisses turned her on to the point of near mindlessness. The force behind his final thrusts made her suspect that she would be walking with a bit of a limp in the morning, but it would be well worth it.

"Jesus! Sara!"

She finally felt the tremors slow down as they rolled through her and she took this time to run her hands over his back and curved buttocks. She could feel the sweat covering his body and turned her face toward his, gently kissing his cheek until he turned into her kiss. What was hard and passionate now was slow and delicious as their mouths gently tasted of one another. When she thought he was falling asleep she was surprised by his sudden movement with her as he rolled them over onto his back with her on top. He remained connected to her as he pulled the bedspread over top of them and they both lay contemplating what was going to happen when the morning sun would invade their bliss.


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter 16

Grissom woke to find Sara staring at him as they lay face-to-face. Amazing how he looked into those chocolate eyes and he felt a rush he couldn't explain. Explainable or not, it felt good. It was kind of scary, but invigorating. He automatically reached for her and placed his hand on her hip, stroking his thumb over her waist. He was becoming very enamored of that hip and before she had time to consider what he was doing, he lifted himself on elbow then leaned down and placed a warm kiss where his hand had been.

"What are you doing?" She laughed at him.

He shrugged his shoulders then lay next to her again. "Appreciating a fine work of art."

"Are you saying my ass is a piece of art?"

"I wasn't kissing your ass—well, figuratively speaking, I guess I was. Technically, it was your hip."

"My hip." Her hand slid up his arm, over his shoulder and then up where she stroked his bearded cheek with her thumb. "So. . .then. . .you don't think I have a nice ass?"

He couldn't stop the smile that tugged at his lips as he yanked her up against him. "I think you've got an amazing "ass."

"Really? I mean, you're not just saying that—right?" She teased.

"I "dream" of those gluteal muscles," he teased back. "I sit and fantasize about running my hands over them for hours. I get an erection when I imagine you in the locker room, bending over to tie your boots and giving everyone in the place a perfect view of just how well your slacks fit you, and I walk up behind you and before you can stand up again, I grab hold of your hips and press myself against those firm globes. Then I open my zipper and pull out my. . ."

"Uh-uh-uh," she warned playfully. "Don't get vulgar. Let's just say you pull out your. . .throbbing desire!"

He chuckled at her. "Okay—I pull out my throbbing stick of desire. . ."

"You?" she cut him off. "I wouldn't call it a "stick," let's call it a. . .utility pole!"

"Are you trying for extra brownie points?" He pressed his enlarging "utility pole" against her and she spread her legs just far enough to allow it to slide between them as they continued to look at one another.

"Well, what would you like to call it?" She asked in a tone that started out normal but when he moved his hips against her, it ended in a sensual moan.

"Do I have to name it?" He laughed at her. "Should I name it "Little Gilly?"

"I like "Bertie." She told him as she squeezed her thighs around him more tightly, this time, bringing a moan of pleasure from him. "Big Bertie!"

"I'm not going to name my penis Bert—or Bertie."

"Oh? But you'd name it "little Gilly?" She laughed at him. "If not "Big Bertie," then how about "Gargantuan Gilbert?"

"I'm not naming it anything other than "Sara's Toy."

"Ahhh," she cooed as she snuggled up against him and reached behind him to place her hand on his more than appealing bottom to give it a squeeze. "That's so sweet. It's like a gift then? Shouldn't we wrap it and put a bow on it?"

"Now you want a bow on it?" He raised a brow as he looked at her, continuing with their banter until she pushed him onto his back and she straddled him as she sat up. She smiled wickedly as she rose up on her knees and reached down to take hold of "said gift" and place it at her entrance.

"No. I want "me" on it," she sighed as she lowered herself.

He lay on his back and watched this vision enveloping him within herself and not for the first time since the arrival of Sophia, wondered just how he was going to manage to protect her from all the office politics that he was sure would come collapsing down around her if they were to find out that he was now over the borderline of propriety. At least, as far as they would be concerned. As he watched her rising and lowering above him, he knew that for him, this was "very" proper—and he was going to see to it that come hell or high water, she was NOT going to be visiting a certain detective the following weekend. He thought perhaps an extra night or two of overtime might be in order for his brunette CSI and he most certainly wasn't referring to Nick or Warrick.

"God, Sara. . ." he moaned as her sheath hugged him exquisitely. "how do you manage to do this to me?"

She slowed her actions as she looked down at him, doubt entering her expression. "Do you want me to stop?"

"Never," he told her as he pulled her down and rolled them onto their sides, meeting her lips with his as he began devouring her.

She answered his kiss as their hands roamed over one another's bodies, brailing one another as he pulled her leg up over his hip and proceeded to pleasure them both with his thrusts and grinds. He could tell she was getting closer as her fingernails scraped down along his side, instigating him to roll even farther until he had her on her back. He lifted himself onto his knees and pulled her hips up, tilting them to accept him fully as he drilled into her. She was such a mesmerizing sight as she lay on the mattress and the sight of her magnificent breasts beckoned to him. He grasped onto them with both hands, allowing her to slide her fingertips over his forearms where she grasped onto him in an effort to stop sliding up the bed with each of his powerful thrusts. When he felt he couldn't get inside of her enough; he felt he wouldn't be satisfied until he was completely consumed by her, he moved his grasp onto her legs and lifted beneath her knees. He could hear the sounds coming from her but he couldn't seem to slow down. She had that effect on him—she always did. God, he hoped he wasn't hurting her then when the loudest sound escaped her throat, he nearly stopped until he felt her spasm around him as she arched her back. The stiffness of her body told him everything he needed to know and soon he was practically seeing stars as he ground into her body and exploded within her heated core.

He didn't want to collapse on top of her in fear that he would hurt her. Instead, he swayed in an effort to remain upright until he felt her grabbing onto his arms again and pulling him down next to her. She turned into him and started to snuggle, but suddenly she yelped and grabbed onto the sheet, yanking it up over them as she stared toward the window. Grissom looked at her to see what amounted to pure terror as she continued to stare in that direction.

"Sara?"

"You didn't close the damned curtains all the way! Someone's out there!"

Grissom turned to look over his shoulder, seeing that there was about a two-inch gap between the drapes. "Were they walking by?"

"No! They were looking in at us!"

Grissom was out of the bed in an instant, pausing only to make sure Sara was covered again. He grabbed his jeans and yanked them on and hurried toward the door as he buttoned them and pulled up the zipper.

"I swear to God if it's that goddamned blonde I'll put her on dumpster duty until the day she retires!" Grissom yanked the door open and heard a whimper, but the blonde who stood staring at him with wide eyes wasn't the one he expected. Grissom grabbed the young man and jerked him inside the room and slammed the door behind them.

"Greg!" Sara gasped.

"What were you doing?" Grissom shouted at him.

"I—I—uh—well," Greg Sanders stammered then looked at Grissom as if he realized the significance of the situation. "Hey! "I" wasn't doing anything! Just what were "you" doing, Stud!"

"You were watching?" Grissom growled.

"NO! I wasn't watching! What do ya think I am? A pervert?" Greg glanced over at Sara and gave her a nervous smile. "Hi, Sara."

"Greg," she answered just as awkwardly.

"Then what were you doing?" Grissom insisted.

"Ya know, Grissom, If I were you, I wouldn't be standing there about to lecture me on motel etiquette. And I'd really prefer it if you'd get a shirt on—you're kinda freakin' me out."

Grissom looked at the younger man in exasperation, knowing the way his mind worked, he would have to take a step back from bombarding him with his temper before he could get any information from him. He moved to the curtains and peeked out, then pulled them closed completely before turning back to see Greg looking back at Sara with an appreciative, if not totally accepting smile.

"Sit down, Greg!" Grissom ordered and when the boy did so, he picked up his shirt and started to pull it on. "Why are you here?"

"Ecklie said Sophia called and they arranged for Sara to come back to the lab. When she didn't show up, I thought I'd drive up to make sure she was okay."

"And why wouldn't she be okay?" Grissom asked bitterly, finding the younger man's over-attentiveness irritating.

"She couldda got into an accident or something! Her truck couldda broke down—which, by the way, I saw the truck out back and it doesn't look like it's in very good shape. What did you do to it?"

"Greg!" Grissom attempted to get him focused back on the subject.

"Oh—yeah—I forgot. Ecklie rode up with me."

"Jesus Christ!" Sara hissed as she pulled the sheet around her and jumped off the bed, grabbed her clothes and darted into the bathroom.

"And you felt you didn't need to alert us to that fact as soon as you got here?" Grissom asked sarcastically.

"I was going to tell you—just to be friendly—then I looked in here and got the show of a lifetime! Anyway, I couldn't help it if you shocked the thought right out of my brain—then you grabbed me and I wasn't exactly thinking about Ecklie while I was wondering if I was going to survive your attack."

"Where is he?" Grissom went back to the curtain and looked outside again.

"I think he's down at Sophia's room. He said he wanted to check in with her first to see if she had access to the evidence he sent her up after, since evidently Sara didn't have it."

"Yeah, well, it looks like he's seen her," Grissom mumbled as he watched Ecklie nearly stumble out of the room at the other end of the motel. "Sara—are you almost dressed? Ecklie's on his way and he's in a hurry."

"Go outside and meet him. I'll be there in a second," she called back.

Grissom opened the door and started out, but stopped when he noticed that Greg remained seated. "Out!"

"Fine, I'm going out," Greg mumbled then looked at the way Ecklie was hurrying toward them resembling a Christmas ornament as his face seemed to be tinged green while at the same time he had signs of a blush that ran up his face clear to his bald spot. "Wow! What's with him?"

"Where's Sara?" Ecklie insisted in a frenzied breath.

"I'm right here." Sara stepped out of the room to join the three men. "Why?"

"Why weren't you down there where you should've been?"

"I thought she was supposed to be back at the lab—that's why we came up—to check to see if she was okay." Greg crossed his arms over his chest as he looked at his superior.

"You" came up to see if she was okay. "I" came up to make sure the case was okay. Now—again—why weren't you down in that room with . . .with. . ." At that point they heard the slamming of a door from the other end of the motel and they all looked down to see a harried Sophia rushing toward them. "Oh, my God—she's coming up here!"

"Something wrong, Conrad?" Grissom asked as they all continued to watch Sophia stomping toward them.

"No! Not a damned thing!" He never let his eyes leave Sophia as he addressed Sara. "Why weren't you where you were supposed to be? All of this could've been avoided if you'd have been down there!"

"What did you tell them?" Sophia shouted at Conrad then looked at Grissom with an almost pleading expression. "It isn't true! Don't believe that damned pervert!"

"Pervert!" Ecklie hissed back at her. "I wasn't the one standing naked in front of a mirror and singing to a glowing dildo!"

"Shut up, you. . .you. . ." she couldn't seem to find a word vile enough for him. "You didn't have to stand there staring—did you? You could have let me know it was you—and not. . ."

They all watched as she looked back at Grissom quickly then seemed to deflate as she realized she was supporting Ecklie's claim. She let out a whimper and turned around and headed back to her room in a rush. This time when Ecklie turned to look at Grissom he was met with amusement.

"Looks like you got more than you bargained for, Conrad. Next time you'll knock before entering a lady's room."

"I did knock!" Ecklie growled. "The crazy bitch told me to come in, that she'd been waiting for me!"

"Now you know why "I" wasn't down there with her," Sara said in all seriousness, turning Ecklie's shocked gaze back to her.

"Oh, my God! You're kidding! She was waiting for you?"

"No, Conrad," Grissom assured him. "She was waiting for me. It seems she's got it in her head that we should be . . .involved."

"So, then she isn't involved with Sara," Conrad said, relieved at the thought.

"No," Greg said with a roll of his eyes. "She's" not involved with Sara."

Ecklie missed the emphasis on "she's" and didn't pick up the suggestion that perhaps someone else in their presence was involved with Sara. "Well, thank God for that! I'd hate to bring up disciplinary action against anyone for being involved with another member of the staff. If I'd have to deal with two of the same. . .well, let's just say I'm glad they aren't involved."

Although the insinuation passed right by Ecklie, Grissom and Sara picked up on it immediately, earning Greg a shove from Sara and a deadly look from Grissom.

"Sara, would you like to go back in and bring out the evidence we were going over before Greg interrupted us?" Grissom suggested, bringing a short chuckle from the younger man.

"Yeah—I'd like to see that, too."

"Shut up, Greg," Grissom told him.

"So, do you want to fill me in on what happened last night? Why didn't Sara come back like she told me she was going to?"

"She had an accident with the truck and hurt her knees. We had to have them looked at. Luckily the doctor was just leaving the emergency clinic and looked at her without giving her x-rays. He said she was going to be fine and didn't need anything other than taking it easy for a few hours."

"Yeah, like that happened," Greg snorted and received another look from Grissom.

"So she came back here instead of going to her room with Sophia?" Ecklie asked.

"They don't get on very well. So, we worked through the night, instead." Grissom said then gave Greg a warning glare before the boy could make any remarks on his statement.

"Is there anything you're in the middle of that can't be turned over to me for the rest of the day?" Conrad asked Grissom then upon his blank stare, he continued. "If you've been awake all night, Greg and I can pick up the slack until you get some rest. There's no sense in working you a straight 24 hours—your brain will be more productive once you get a few hours sleep."

"I'm okay," Grissom told him then took the small case that Sara was carrying out of the room.

"You too, Sara. If you've been up since yesterday, I want you both to get some sleep. You can either go back down. . .there," he nodded toward the area Sophia had gone in. "but with the temper she's in, you might be better off getting some sleep here. How many beds are in there? Two? You don't mind letting her sleep in one bed while you get some sleep in the other, do ya?"

Grissom looked from Ecklie to Sara, to Greg and then back to Ecklie.

"I don't know. Do you think it will be following company policy?"

"I don't think two people sleeping in the same room warrants investigation. Anyway, the way you two have been getting along, I'm sure I don't have to worry about anything other than whether or not you're going to murder each other in your sleep. Greg, grab that case. We'll go to the lobby and see what we've got to work with. Grissom—Sara—get some sleep."

"Yeah," Greg said as he took the case from Sara then looked back at Grissom. "Get some "sleep!"


	17. Chapter 17

Chapter 17

Grissom and Sara stood, silently watching Greg and Ecklie walking across the dry dirt-packed parking lot. Grissom lifted his hand and scratched the back of his neck. Did he hear right? Did Conrad Ecklie just advise him to go inside a motel room and sleep with Sara Sidle? He looked up at the morning sky and wondered if the sun was hot enough to cause a heat stroke because surely that would be the only explanation. Yes. That was it. Between Sophia's escapade and the sun, Conrad's blood pressure surged through the roof and he ruptured a vessel in his brain! The sudden giggling next to him turned his attention to the beautiful brunette he was supposed to be "sleeping" with. What started as a restrained giggle turned into an out and out laugh as he watched her. What the hell was it around here? Is everyone suffering from heat stroke?

"You should see your face!" Sara laughed at him. "I think I could knock you over with a feather!"

"You "did" just hear Ecklie tell us to go in there together—and stay there—by ourselves for a significant amount of time. Right?"

"Mm-hmm," she nodded with bright eyes. "Are you going to argue with him about it? Or would you rather go get some of that sleep we evidently need so desperately?"

"No," he said quietly as he started to follow her inside. "No, I'm not going to argue with him about it."

"That's good to know." She closed the door behind them and went to the bed where she drew back the covers. "I was afraid I'd have to force you to go to bed."

He couldn't stop the smile when she grabbed onto the front of his shirt and turned him until they both fell onto the mattress and bounced, and he couldn't stop his laugh that joined hers when their combined weight broke through the bottom of the bed and the mattress and bed springs landed halfway on the floor.

"Ya gotta love this town," Grissom chuckled as he held his arms around her.

"Why couldn't Sophia have gotten this room? She probably isn't having any problems with her furniture." Sara's forearms rested on Grissom's chest as she stroked the sides of his face.

"Why should she be? I don't think a. . .mechanical device such as the "Purple Pile Driver" weighs as much as I do."

"You mean her. . ." Sara started laughing at him then her eyes grew larger. "Oh my God, is that what it's called? The Purple Pile Driver?"

"I don't know," he laughed at her. "I thought that up on my own. I'm not an expert on the models of exotic stimuli."

"Oh? Maybe you should become one. That's an amazing name for it!" She started giggling again at the thought of it. "The Powerful Purple Pile Driver! Guaranteed to drill a hole deep enough bury any sized pole!"

"Or your money back?" He smiled into her eyes.

"Oh, definitely."

"How about you? Do you think I could drill deep enough bury my pole?"

"I think you already have," she explained with a sparkle to her eyes.

"I think it needs to be installed again. The last hole seemed a little wobbly."

She laughed at him. "Are you saying I have a wobbly hole?"

"Maybe not a good simile." He thought for a moment. "Okay, the hole was so tight it nearly split the pole."

"Now you're saying I nearly broke your. . .pole?"

"Not yet, but I'm willing to try, if you are." He attempted to turn but the mattress shifted and they slid until she was wedged between the bed frame and the mattress with him on top.

"Umph!" She looked at the position they were now in. "Um, maybe we should think about switching to the other bed."

He got to his feet and pulled her out of her trap, then they both moved toward the other bed. He unbuttoned his shirt and deposited it on the chair, then sat down to remove his boots. By the time he stood up to remove his jeans, she was already sliding beneath the sheet wearing only her tee-shirt, panties and a big yawn. He stood above her in his tee-shirt and boxer/briefs with his initial intention being to slide in beside her and go back to sleep, but the more he looked at the outline of her legs beneath the sheet, the more he knew he couldn't let this opportunity pass by. He drew the linen back slowly, watching as inch-by-inch her legs became visible. She turned from her side, onto her back and when he finally looked up at her face he saw how she was watching him with a teasing smile.

"I can't seem to fall asleep," he told her with a returning smile.

"After trying so hard? Is there anything I can do to help?"

He sat on the edge of the bed near her calves and let his fingers slide up over her skin, bringing a shiver to her as he repeated his procedure. "I think you're already doing it, my dear."

He slid his hand up the inside of her leg this time and watched as her smile vanished and she squirmed the slightest bit. He couldn't seem to pass by the milky whiteness of her inner thighs and he bent to place a kiss midway up from her knee. He heard her sharp intake of breath and felt her anticipation. He wasn't going to make her wait as he moved his kiss farther up her thigh, pressing her legs apart to grant him access and when he bit the sensitive skin near the top he listened to her whimper. He turned his head slightly and let his tongue run up the length of her, over the satin of her panties, and he could feel her dampness collecting on the other side.

"Grissom," she breathed as her fingers went to his hair.

He grasped onto each side of the panties, letting his fingers lift the small string of elastic and realizing it would only take the slightest effort and she would be free of them. With a quick jerk, the elastic broke and he peeled the satin away from her then maneuvered himself until he was lying on the bottom of the bed and he began his feast. Over and over again, he let his tongue arouse her and used his fingers to heighten her excitement. He was only aware of two things, his excessive need to feed upon her, and the heavy, throbbing in his underwear. He felt torn between wanting to continue what he was doing and wanting to move and relieve the pressure in his body. Instead, he moved himself across the bed and grabbed onto her legs, dragging her until she was on top of him with her legs on either side of his head.

He listened to her whimper again upon their separation but when he returned to her with a vengeance, she moaned and nearly collapsed on top of him. In her elevated state of arousal, she quickly pushed his boxer/briefs down and released his "pole." She pounced on him and slid him between her lips. Her hunger had her hands at his base, working with her mouth as she bobbed and sucked as much as she was physically able to take. The room filled with mutual moans and whimpers, groans and sighs, and finally loud expressions of complete euphoria.

Slowly, she turned around and crawled up his body. He felt as if his heart was going to beat through his chest and he found it too much effort to open his eyes, but he still could feel her lying beside him with her leg over his, her hand on his chest and her nose nuzzling against his beard. He turned slightly and placed a kiss on her sweet lips. Slowly, their breaths came easier to them and he opened his eyes and looked down at where she was gazing up at him. He chuckled at the fact that she had been studying him, something that with anyone else would have made him nervous—but with Sara, he enjoyed it.

"Do you realize how extremely handsome you are?" She asked seriously, almost as if she weren't actually aware of saying it.

He self-consciously ran his hand over his face then looked back at her. "I think you see things in me that no else can."

"Hah!" she blurted and rolled on top of him again. "Don't even go there, Grissom."

"What?" He laughed at her as his hands began stroking over the sensitive skin of her behind.

"Okay, well, let's start with this trip to Hitchcockville! At the diner on the way here, you had Ella-Mae Clampett drooling after you, then in the general store, old Mrs. Olsen had to take several good looks at your butt, and Large Marge from the diner here in town looked like she wanted to dive right into your pants."

"Dive into my pants?" He chuckled at her again. "That's a vision, isn't it?"

"No!" She swatted his arm. "I don't want to envision it!"

"What about you? Do you have plans of diving into my pants?"

"I think I just did, didn't I?" She smiled at him. "And speaking of pants. You owe me a pair of underwear."

"I'll put them on my shopping list."

"Don't you want to know my size?"

He held his hands up with about a foot between them. "About this size."

"I'm sure the saleswoman will know exactly what you're talking about. Forget it. I'll get them myself."

"I bet if I went to the store down the street, "old Mrs. Olsen" would know what size I was talking about."

"Mm-hmm," she said as she yawned again. "I'd rather you not discuss the size of my butt with the store-owner's wife."

"Move over," he said as he kissed her forehead, then maneuvered them until they were laying the correct way in the bed. He pulled the sheet over them then allowed her to snuggle against him again.

"I'm too tired to talk about Mrs. Olsen or Ella-Mae or. . ."

"Large Marge," he supplied for her, feeling her relaxing against him already.

"Yeah, Large Marge," she sighed.


	18. Chapter 18

Chapter 18

Grissom must have dozed off because the rattling of the doorknob startled him awake.

"Sara," he said quietly as he looked in the direction of the door. "Sara, honey, wake up."

"No, I'm tired," she moaned.

"There's someone at the door."

"So?" She pulled the sheet more tightly around her and turned away from him. "You get it."

"We're both nearly naked, Sara," he explained.

She slowly turned onto her stomach and raised herself on her elbows as she looked at him with blatant dissatisfaction. "We "are" supposed to be sleeping in here—aren't we?"

"Yes, but. . ."

"Then let them go away thinking we're sleeping and we don't hear the door!"

They heard the door knob rattle again, then the anxious half shout/half whisper of Greg Sanders.

"C'mon, guys! Open up! Open up! Open up!"

"Dammit, Greg!" Grissom got up from the bed and adjusted his clothing until he was adequately covered, then double-checked Sara who lay on the bed and nodded her okay for him to open the door.

"Hurry up! Hurry up!" Greg rushed through the door, closing it as soon as he slipped inside. He stopped short when he first noticed the bed that was broken and leaning haphazardly on the floor, then he turned his full attention toward Sara and he smiled his most charming smile. "Hi, Sara."

"Hello, Greg." She pushed her hair back from her face as she sat up with the sheet covering her lap.

"Well, I'd say I was glad I didn't interrupt anything again, but by the looks of that bed, you two must've been into some heavy acrobatics!"

"Greg?" Grissom picked up his jeans and pulled them on.

"Yeah, Gris?"

"Shut up."

"Okay," he smiled broadly as he rocked back and forth on his heels. "Then I don't have to tell you there's been two more dead bodies found, and a dog, and Catherine, Warrick and Nick are on their way up here, and Ecklie wants to go over the new evidence with you as soon as he gets here, which," he glanced at his watch, then back at Grissom. "According to my calculation should be in about 15 seconds."

"Jesus Christ, Greg!" Sara yelled at him as she once again wrapped the sheet around herself and scampered into the bathroom to pull on her jeans.

"I told ya to let me in," he explained as he watched her disappear behind the partition. "Is it my fault it took you guys so long to answer the door and let me in?"

"How long have we been asleep?" Grissom asked as he went to the window and pulled back the curtain to peek outside. The absence of the sun shining directly on them told him it was at least afternoon.

"Well, that would depend on just when you two went to sleep, now wouldn't it?" Greg asked as he looked at Grissom. "I mean—were you awake, breaking the bed for an hour? Two hours?"

"Yeah, Greg," Grissom said sarcastically. "We were jumping up and down on the bed for two hours."

"Two hours?" Greg's brows raised in awe. "Wow—you stallion, you!"

"Shut up, Greg," Sara said as she quickly moved toward the broken bed. "Grab that part of the mattress and see if we can, at least, make it look like it isn't broken."

Together she and Greg propped it into the bed frame.

"I'm telling you—there's something going on in there!" Sophia's voice stopped in front of the door just before the knock.

Grissom opened the door to find Ecklie and Sophia standing outside with Ecklie looking a bit frazzled and Sophia disgruntled.

"Give it a rest, Sophia," Ecklie sighed as he entered the room and went to the chair at the small table then proceeded to rub his hand over his face before looking up at Grissom. "I hope you two got sufficient sleep, because we've found ourselves in what could possibly be a serial situation here. We've found two more bodies."

"And a dog," Greg added.

"A dog?" Sara asked with concern.

"Yeah," Greg nodded. "A dog."

"Oh, my God!" Sara moaned.

"Yeah—why?" Sophia rolled her eyes at Sara. "I guess that's worse than two more dead bodies!"

"Well, it certainly doesn't make it any "better!" Sara countered.

"Oh, please! It's a damned dog!"

"It was a living thing!"

"Now it's a "dead" thing!"

"You're an idiot!"

"You're a bitch!"

Sara took a step toward Sophia but Grissom stood between them and looked at Ecklie who was watching the scene as if in defeat. When he looked up at Grissom for what appeared to be a ways to escape this situation, Grissom gave him a little smile, a short chuckle and a small shrug of his shoulders.

"Is this all completely necessary?" Ecklie finally managed to get out.

"You're the one who sent them in here so they could screw around!" Sophia turned on the balding man.

"I sent them in here so they could get some sleep. They clearly couldn't get any rest with you around! Your accusations are unfounded and just plain ridiculous! Look at them! They're so damned tired the look like they could drop!"

"That's because they've been. . ."

"Sophia!" Ecklie said sternly. "Give it a rest! Just because you couldn't entice Grissom into your bed doesn't mean he'd go running to Sara's! Not everyone is obsessed with getting laid around here!"

"Yeah, right."

"Just take a seat, Sophia. For Christ's sake, get your mind out of the gutter. Just because you're preoccupied with. . ."

"Don't say it!" Sophia warned him.

"Come on, Sophia," Greg said as he gently placed his hand on Sophia's arm and guided her toward the end of the bed. "Just sit down and take it easy."

"Oh, shut up, ya little jerk!" She told him then plopped on the corner of the mattress, only to have it fall to the floor beneath her.

"Oh, wow, Soph!" Greg said with faux shock. "Look what you did! Damn, maybe you ought to consider a diet or something."

Grissom's eyes opened wider as he watched Sophia attempting to get out of her position, closely resembling a turtle stuck on its back.

"Can we "please" get on with business?" Ecklie asked with rising frustration. "Sophia, get off the floor!"

"You did that on purpose!" Sophia finally got into a semi-sitting position as she looked up at Greg.

"Hey!" Sara spoke up as she stared at Sophia. "You broke my damned bed! Now what am I supposed to sleep in?"

"The same thing you've been sleeping in for days! His. . ."

"Sophia!" Ecklie cut in again. "We've got more important issues to deal with than your hurt pride!"

"Oh yeah?" She growled as she scrambled off the mattress and grabbed Sara's torn panties, thrusting them in Ecklie's face. "Then what's this?"

"God!" Ecklie jerked his head back and glared at Sophia.

"I'd call that really bad housekeeping," Greg interjected. "You wouldda thought the maid would've cleaned that up before they rented the room to Grissom."

"Bullshit!" Sophia turned toward Sara and threw them at her. "They're her's!"

"That's it!" Ecklie got to his feet and started toward the door to leave. "One more damned word out of you, Sophia, and you're back at the lab to help in DNA!"

"Why make "them" suffer?" Greg said under his breath but received a sharp jab in his arm from Sophia.

"What's the matter, Sara? Can't keep track of your panties? A little too hot to keep them on?"

"Well, at least I didn't burn out the motor on my pulsating purple pounding machine!"

"What?" Sophia's eyes grew as she stared at Sara.

"You know. . .rrrrr, rrrrr," Sara imitated the noise of the sex toy.

"Sara," Ecklie said tiredly. "I think it's safe to say we don't need to hear about Sophia's personal habits right now."

"Really?" Greg asked. "It was just getting kind of interesting."

"Shut up," Sophia hissed at the younger man.

"Rrrrr, rrrrr," Sara said again, promptly Sophia to push her way out the door past Ecklie.

"Grissom, you'll be glad to know you'll be out of this predicament starting tonight. Evidently the "funeral" procession left town and the motel is emptying out. Catherine, Warrick and Nick are on their way up here, and by then I don't care if everyone has a room completely to themselves."

"I don't want a room to myself," Greg told him. "Not in this place! It reminds me of the Bates Motel."

"In Psycho," Sara agreed.

"Yeah! You know. . ." Greg went into the sound effects of the infamous shower scene as he repeatedly brought his arm down as if stabbing Sara. "Janet Lee and all that!"

"Greg," Ecklie looked at him. "Get a life!" He turned toward Grissom. "I'll be waiting for you at the sheriff's office. Sara, you better get some shoes on as well, it looks like we're in for a long night."


	19. Chapter 19

Chapter 19

"Where's Catherine?" Grissom asked Nick as he glanced up from the field they were unearthing.

"Jeez Louise!" Nick exclaimed as he looked at the series of grave-sized hole scattered about that were now being lit by multiple flood lights. "Oh, Catherine's on her way but she needed to pick Lindsey up from a school trip. She said she'd be up as soon as she got her home with her mother. Warrick offered to drive her up, so he stayed with her. I'm afraid you're stuck with me for now. How many graves have you found?"

"Eleven in this field, alone. There were five in the basement of the house over there."

"Whose house is it? Are they being investigated?"

"They just moved there last month. The bodies were there longer than that. And before this couple got the house, it was vacant for a year."

"So it could be anyone."

"Afraid so," Grissom said as he glanced over to where Sara was snapping pictures of the latest body that was dug up. "You can help Sophia with the remains of the graves, maybe you two can come up with something useful. Sara and I will go back to the sheriff's office with Greg. They're expanding their morgue with the leftovers staying in the sheriff's basement."

"Ah, Gris," Nick moaned with a pitiful tilt of his head. "Do I have to work with her?"

"You've got something against Sophia, Nick?"

"Yeah, she's a bitch," he explained. "Everyone's got something against working with her."

"Are we talking about Sophia?" Ecklie asked as he approached the men, taking off a pair of gloves and wiping the sweat from his forehead. "Is there "anyone" who will work with her?" Grissom and Nick just stared back at their superior, knowing he was waiting for either one of them to speak up, but neither willing to do so. "What about Greg?"

"Oh, yeah, mm-hmm," Nick agreed quickly.

"Greg—yeah, Greg can work with her," Grissom joined in.

"Well, he can't," Ecklie told them. "He's needed down at the morgue to work on getting DNA samples of all of these."

"Sara and I can do that," Grissom told him.

"No," Ecklie said tiredly. "I know you don't particularly get along well with Sara, I'm not going to force you to work with her when you don't have to."

"No, really, it's no bother. We'll just go in and get the job done. I think we can control ourselves long enough to finish."

"You and Sara?" Nick asked with disbelieve. "That's like throwing two pissed off cats into a shoe box with one another. Neither one's going to come out unscathed!"

"That's what I figure too," Ecklie said, then glanced back to the blonde CSI who was struggling to pull a tarp out of the grave Sara was taking snapshots of while Greg grabbed the other end. "Okay, I'll stay here and work with Sophia. I don't know that they're going to be doing any more digging tonight. Nick, you can go down to the sheriff's office with the other three. I'm sure there's more than enough work to be taken care of down there. We've sure as hell sent enough bodies down to them."

"You little shit! You did that on purpose!" Sophia yelled and Greg yelped as he took a quick jump backwards and stared at the woman who was now half sitting, half lying on the ground with a corpse lying across her lap and black slime oozing out of a decomposing hole in its abdomen.

"Oh, Sophia," Greg said as he stood there staring at her. "That's gonna smell horrible."

"I told you to get a better hold on that tarp," Sara told her as she started taking photos of Sophia on the ground. "Didn't I say, don't drop that, Soph!"

"Shut up! And stop taking pictures!"

Sara quickly snapped one more then lowered the camera as she continued to watch the woman. "Why are you just sitting there? If I were you, I know "I" wouldn't want to be sitting on the ground with a decomposing body on top of me."

Ecklie sighed deeply as he looked over at the commotion then called in a tired voice, "Get off the ground, Sophia. We've got too much work to be doing to be playing games."

"Get the damned thing off of me!" Sophia hissed.

"Oh!" Greg said as if the idea hadn't occurred to him and he quickly reached down and grabbed his end of the tarp again, pulling it around to get it off of her, but not before spilling more of the putrid semi-liquid onto her. "Sorry."

Nick looked over at Grissom. "She's gonna stink to high heaven."

"Lemons," Grissom said absently. "She should use lemons."

"I don't think she's going to find lemons out here at this time of night," Ecklie said as he started walking with Grissom and Nick toward the trucks parked several yards away. "Good thing no one's sharing a room with her."

"Conrad!" Sophia's raging voice rang out after the bald supervisor, making him pause a millisecond before speeding up his step and getting inside one of the trucks.

"I—uh—have to go to the bathroom."

Grissom and Nick watched as he drove away and they both stepped back when Sophia hurried to them and stared after the truck.

"Man! Sophia!" Nick said with his hand covering his nose. "Use a little common courtesy. Step back about twenty or thirty yards until you get a shower."

"Won't work," Sara said as she approached them and walked directly to the truck she was sharing with Grissom. "She needs . . ."

"Lemons," Grissom finished for her as he went to the driver's side of the truck.

"Yeah—lemons," Nick told her then hurried to the truck he had arrived in.

"Well where am I supposed to get lemons at this time of night?" She called after them.

"I got some back in my motel room," Greg said as he caught up with her. "I figured we might run into something like this so I brought a bunch up for the crew. Want to buy some?"

"I'm not paying for them. Were you going to charge everyone else on the crew?"

"Mmm—no."

"Then why. . ."

"Do you want to wash that stink off or not?" Greg asked again.

"How much?"

"How much do you want them?" He looked at her with a raised brow. "Right now I'm charging a buck a lemon."

"I can get them three for a dollar at the store!"

"Good luck trying! But, if you'd rather wait until morning and let Grissom smell you like this all night. . ."

"I'm not paying a buck a lemon!"

"Okay, but now they're a buck and a quarter."

"I'm not. . ."

"Buck and a half."

"Fine! Get me the damned lemons!"

Within the next half hour, Greg, Sara, Grissom and Nick were all down at the temporary morgue collecting DNA samples, photographing injuries to the bodies, and generally investigating them for more evidence. Since Sara had the camera, she roamed from body to body, pausing to speak to each CSI as she approached him. But for Grissom she always had a tendency to pass behind him, where her hand would find the perfect roundness of his backside. After nearly an hour and a half of this, he swore to himself that if she did it one more time he was going to order her out of the room and he wasn't quite sure if he could keep himself from going with her.

"What's going on over there?" Greg asked in a sing-songy voice, wearing a smile as childish as a four-year-old's. "Grissom having more trouble with chalk?"

"What are you talking about?" Sara immediately pulled her hand away from squeezing a firm globe and Grissom looked over the tops of his glasses from the teenage boy he was examining.

"Grissom's butt—he back into a wall of chalk, or what? That must be the tenth time I saw you grabbing it."

"Sara's grabbing butts?" Nick looked up from the woman he was working on and made a semi-disgusted face. "Grissom's butt?"

"He's got a lose thread—and I'm trying to get it off—it's driving me nuts!" Sara spoke up quickly, sending Greg a look that could maim.

"I bet it's driving you nuts," Greg chuckled.

"See, Griss," Nick said as he went back to searching for foreign objects on his body. "That's why you should just go buy yourself a pair of jeans. You never have that kind of problem with jeans. They never have threads hanging off of them like that."

"I'll keep that in mind," Grissom said dully. "Sara, have you finished with these? I think you've gotten enough shots in here."

Sara looked at him. "Are you saying I'm finished? That I can go back to the motel?"

"Not at all. I wanted to go over one of the bodies with you in the other room."

He removed his glasses in a very professor-like manner and turned, walking ahead of Sara toward the room with the other bodies. Greg watched them leave, then moved to the door and watched them go down the hallway, not at all surprised when Grissom moved into the bathroom with Sara instead of going on to the room he had mentioned.

"So what body did you want to discuss with me?" Sara asked with half a smile as she looked at the double stalls and sink that occupied the room.

He silently walked toward her and she backed up until she was pressed back against the sink. He put his hands on her waist and guided her back farther until she was sitting on its edge, then he nudged her legs apart and moved to stand between them.

"You're playing with fire, little girl." He held her hips as he pressed against her and allowed her to stimulate him as he started grinding against her slightly.

"So I'm an arsonist," she said quietly as his hands moved up until he was holding onto her face and he lowered his head to cover her mouth with his own. His tongue slid between her lips, sliding along hers with slow persuasion.

The sound of the door opening didn't register immediately but by the time it was completely open Grissom's lips lifted off of Sara's. Nick rushed inside then stopped abruptly upon sight of them as Grissom and Sara in their position.

"Uh, what are ya doing, boss?" Nick asked slowly.

"She had something in her eye," Grissom told him as Sara quickly blinked and Grissom pried it open with his fingers. "I think I got it out. Did I get it out?"

"Yeah, all better. It must've been some dirt from out at the graves."

"Well, uh," Nick watched as Grissom wet a paper towel and placed it on Sara's eye then stepped back from her. "I—you know. . ."

Grissom and Sara looked at him a moment before they realized they "were" in the bathroom and he had come rushing inside.

"Oh!" Sara jumped down from the sink and started for the door. "Sorry, Nick. I'll leave you to your privacy—or at least partial privacy."

Nick gave her an appreciative smile as he watched her leave, then turned and started for the stall where he immediately unzipped his pants and started to relieve himself.

"Ya better keep an eye on that, Gris. The dirt out there can have awful sharp particles in it. Ya don't want her to get a cut cornea or anything like that."

"Thanks, Nick." Grissom turned and started out the door as well. "I'll do that."


	20. Chapter 20

A/N: It is my hope that by now everyone realizes the characters in Four-Hour Drive are extremely OOC! LOL! I'm trying to write them with very "exaggerated" characteristics that they each have. ("very" exaggerated) So, I hope you all enjoy my little trek into the Twilight Zone (or as Sara puts it, Hitchcockville) with our favorite CSIs.

Chapter 20

"Well, you're not sticking me in with her!" Catherine Willow's voice came up the street as Greg, Nick, Grissom and Sara entered the parking lot of the motel.

"Catherine, be reasonable," Ecklie tried but Catherine stood beneath the streetlight with her hands on her hips in a defiant stance.

"Me? Be reasonable? How reasonable is it to make me stay in the same room as that stench?"

"Sophia," Ecklie looked at her as if he knew it was a lost cause. "I thought I told you to come back here and get cleaned up."

"I did!" She exclaimed. "I washed with lemons—just like they said! I used all of them that I bought off of Greg!"

"You "bought" lemons from Greg?" Catherine asked with disbelief. "You really are an idiot, aren't you?"

"Beside the fact that she shouldn't have had to "buy" the lemons, what exactly makes her an idiot?" Ecklie asked.

"If they're the lemons I'm thinking they are—they've been in his car for the past three weeks. They're probably more mold than anything else."

Sophia's eyes flew to the young man who was almost standing with them as they approached the motel. "You little bastard! You said the mold was what helped activate the acid from the lemons!"

"Well, you wouldn't have paid me a buck and a half a lemon if you'd have known they were rotten," he explained, as if it should have been completely clear to everyone.

Catherine laughed at the other woman. "Now you smell like decomp and moldy lemons."

"Greg! Now you can drive back to that 24-hour gas station we passed on the way here and see if you can buy any lemons in the convenience store," Ecklie told him.

"That must've been thirty miles from here!"

"You should've thought about that before cheating Sophia out of her money. Go!"

Greg started toward the SUV he had driven there that morning, mumbling his complete disapproval of the whole idea as he went. "It isn't my fault she's so gullible."

"Wait, Greg," Nick spoke up. "I'll go with you. Anyone else want anything brought back?"

"If they have anything that remotely resembles edible food—bring some," Catherine told him.

"What are you talking about?" Nick asked.

"Hot food—like pizza, burgers, hot dogs. . .stuff that's warm."

"I'll take a cheese sub!" Sara called to them.

"If they have burgers, I want three," Ecklie said.

"Nachos," Warrick called.

"Gris?" Nick called back. "Anything for you?"

"Just grab something," he said as he walked closer to Catherine where Warrick was leaning against the Tahoe's fender. "Preferably something that hasn't been in a showcase for the past four hours."

"Oh, well, now, doesn't that make it all sound appetizing!" Catherine snarked at him, then looked back at the boys getting in the Explorer. "I want at least two slices of pizza and a bag of chips! Oh—chocolate milk!"

"Sophia?" Nick was about to close the door. "Last chance—what's your preference? Besides a bushel of lemons?"

"Nothing! Just get the damned lemons!"

"Okay," Nick said with raised brows then closed the door and Greg pulled out of the parking lot.

Sara started toward the room she had shared with Grissom earlier that day. She wanted a shower desperately and by then the guys should be back.

"Uh—where do you think you're going?" Sophia asked as she stepped in front of Sara.

"To take a shower."

"Not in there, you're not."

"What are you talking about?" Sara thought the woman was absurd and attempted to step around her but Sophia side-stepped her again. "Would ya get outta my way? I'm tired and want a shower!"

"That's Grissom's room," Sophia smiled smugly at her. "You're stuff is still in my room, remember?"

"Dammit! You better not have gotten your stench all over my clothes!" Sara told her.

"I'll help you get your things out of the room," Grissom offered.

"I bet you will," said Sophia. "And bring it right back here."

"I don't know "where" her stuff is going," Grissom said sternly as he eyed the blonde. "But I do know I'm tired and don't want to stand out here arguing about this little fantasy you've got running around in your mind."

"Sara, you can get your own room. I booked it for you. Number twelve. Catherine, if you're not going to bunk with Sophia, then you can have my room in fourteen. Warrick, do you want to stay with Nick?"

"As long as he doesn't snore like a locomotive," Warrick complained.

"Okay, that puts Greg in thirteen."

"Ah, he ought to love that," Sara spoke up. "He already thinks Michael Myers, Freddy Krueger and Jason are coming after him here at the Bates Motel—when he finds out he's staying in lucky thirteen, he's gonna freak out."

"Ya know, I'm getting real tired of trying to keep all of you happy!" Eckie complained. "Fine! I'll take thirteen. That puts Nick and Warrick in eleven, Sara in twelve, Greg's in ten, Catherine's in fourteen and Grissom stays in fifteen."

"No, I don't want eleven," Warrick spoke up. "Nick and I can stay in thirteen."

"Then you can give Greg eleven!" Sara spoke up.

"Why would I want to do that?" Ecklie was getting more and more frustrated.

"Because. . .Greg hates number ten. He's superstitious about ten," she told him. "His Grampa Olaf told him ten and thirteen are extremely unlucky numbers for descendents of German ancestery."

"Swedish," Grissom said quickly.

"Swedish," Sara corrected herself.

"Evidently he's superstitious about thirteen as well, any other numbers I should know about that Greg has a problem with?"

"No," Sara said. "No, that's about it."

"Why is everyone over on this side of the motel and I'm stuck all the way over on the other side?" Sophia asked with her hands on her hips.

"Uh—take three guesses," Warrick responded.

"That's not fair Conrad! You're ostracizing me just because. . ."

"Just because, what, Sophia? What feasible reason would I have to separate you from the rest of the group, other than you've already spread your stench into Room 22, we don't want you damaging any other rooms and costing us extra for clean-up charges," Ecklie said, clearly fighting to hold onto his temper.

"That and the fact that no one wants to spend the night sleeping next to a psychotic bitch," Catherine said under her breath.

"Catherine! That's enough!" Ecklie corrected her then looked at Grissom who was now standing on the small porch of his room. "Grissom, these people are your crew—can't you keep them under control?"

"You try keeping Catherine under control," Grissom told him, then turned to look at Sophia. "Sophia, Conrad's right, at this point, if you try to go into another room, the decomp would contaminate that room as well. Just wait until they bring back your lemons and then we'll consider moving you."

"To where?" Sara asked as she looked up at him.

"Come on, guys!" Catherine spoke up again. "Why can't we just leave her over there? It isn't hurting anything! It isn't as if she's on the other end of town! She's right on the opposite side of the wall for God's sake!"

"We'll discuss it after she cleans up. I'm going in for a shower. I'll meet you all out here when Nick and Greg get back with our food," Ecklie told them then went into Room 10.

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

Within an hour and a half, seven of the eight CSIs had gathered at the tailgate of the SUV Nick and Greg had returned in, each feasting on their late-night dinner with vigor. It wasn't until Sophia walked around the corner that Greg stopped midway through a bite of his chili dog and quickly looked over at Nick who was downing a super burger. Nick didn't seem to notice the anxiety on Greg's face until with a mouth full of food, Greg uttered, "Oh no!" and got up from where he was sitting on the tail gate and quickly moved to stand behind Catherine and Sara.

Catherine was working on her second slice of pizza as she watched Greg with curiosity, then saw that he was staring at Sophia in fear.

"What did you do, Greg?" Catherine asked quietly then looked at the food scattered around the back of the SUV before looking back at Greg. "Oh, Greg, you didn't!"

"He didn't what?" Nick asked between bites and when he looked to where Catherine and Greg were staring, he gulped and choked slightly on his burger. "Oh, shit!"

"Stay back there," Sara told Sophia. "We're trying to eat here."

"Where are they?"

"They? Who?" Warrick asked.

"My lemons."

"Oh, shit," Nick repeated.

Ecklie looked at his male CSIs then quickly looked to the back of the SUV. "Greg!"

"We forgot!" Nick tried to explain.

"How could you forget?" Asked Ecklie in astonishment. "That's the whole reason you went to the store!"

"Yeah, but we were hungry, and everyone wanted food, and she didn't want anything, so we didn't think about her and we. . .forgot," Greg said in a rush as he peered out over Catherine's shoulder.

"You forgot my goddamned lemons!" Sophia charged after Greg who quickly jumped inside the SUV and locked the door.

"Ah, come on!" Warrick complained as he caught a whiff of her passing through their small crowd.

"Now my pizza smells like decomp," complained Catherine as she dropped it into the box it had come in.

Sophia, realizing she couldn't get in at Greg, turned on Nick. "And you! You went with him! You couldn't remember your main purpose for leaving for more than thirty minutes! Is that too much for your cowboy-hick ass to remember?"

"Jeez, I'm sorry, Sophia," Nick told her as he also stopped eating. "But you're really not number one on my list of things to remember. Anyway, I thought Greg was going to get the lemons. I was in charge of the food."

"You didn't even have to remember the food!" Sophia turned back to Greg again. "And you still couldn't remember them?"

He gave her a chuckle and quick shrug of his shoulders and she immediately grabbed onto the handle of the door and started pulling on it to no avail.

"Excuse me, is there a problem here?" Asked the young officer who had talked to Sara the night before when he met her and Grissom on the street after eating dinner.

Everyone stopped what they were doing and turned to look at him then as if finding his youthful appearance nonthreatening, they all started talking again.

"Leave him alone, Sophia!" Sara told her. "You'll get your shower in the morning when the store opens down the street."

"She has to wait for the store to open. . ." the officer started, then stopped and made a face when Sophia's smell hit him. "Oh—you need lemons for that Ma'am."

"I "know" what I need," she said through grit teeth.

"Well, if you'd like, I could wake up Mr. Templeton and I'm sure under the circumstances he'd go down and get you the lemons. Would you like to come along with me and we'll get you fixed right up."

Sophia looked at the young man as if he had finally turned human in her eyes. "Yes. Yes, I'd like to come with you, officer. . .?"

"Jeremy, ma'am. Everyone just calls me Jeremy around here." He took off his hat as he looked at her and smiled, then gestured for her to walk with him. Sophia stared at him as if she couldn't believe her good fortune then silently started down the street with the young man as he continued to talk to her.

Sara stood next to the cab of the SUV when Greg finally got out. "You didn't really "forget" the lemons, did you?"

"Nah," he grinned as he went back to his dinner as everyone around the truck dug in again, as well.


	21. Chapter 21

Chapter 21

Sara was finally standing in her shower, the nearly hot water beating down on her lower back and easing the tired muscles. She had the television playing on a music channel, drowning out the sound of the person entering the room from the dark. The person moved silently then stopped at the edge of the bed where a pair of panties were waiting for her when she came out. The panties were picked up and the satin ran over fingers that took extreme pleasure in it, but it wasn't going to stop there. Slowly, the person moved inside the bathroom and looked at the figure through the shower curtain. She was rinsing her hair now and the sight of her body as she maneuvered it under the spray was amazing. Sara opened her eyes. Something was wrong. She slowly turned toward the shower curtain and saw the shape of someone standing outside watching her. Suddenly the curtain was yanked open and Sara screamed then started fighting for her life. The intruder was faster than Sara, ducking out of the way of her punch so that it merely hit him on the shoulder. He grabbed her quickly, wrapping his arms around her to still her attack and before she realized it, she was pulled from the shower and lifted into the air with her feet dangling nearly a foot off the floor.

"Rather hostile when your shower's interrupted, aren't you?" Grissom's voice broke through to her and she stopped struggling long enough to look into his gorgeous blue eyes, then she pulled back her fist and cuffed him in the shoulder again.

"Don't do that! Why would you ever do such a thing—especially in this place! Jesus Christ! I thought I was about to get stabbed to death!"

Grissom smiled sheepishly at her as he placed her feet on the floor but continued to hold her. "I've got much better things in mind than stabbing you to death."

"How did you get in here?" She looked out toward the closed door.

"I know the manager," he teased. "He gave me the extra key. Anyway, I thought you'd be expecting me. This "is" why you wanted Greg in the room next to yours, isn't it? To keep Ecklie far enough away that he couldn't see me coming or going."

"I don't know," she teased back as she held her arms around his neck. "Maybe I wanted Greg next to me so Ecklie couldn't see "him" coming or going."

"Well, if you'd rather have Greg visiting, I'll go tell him to come in here instead of staying in my room."

"Why's he in "your" room?"

"He's providing a silhouette to convince any spying eyes that someone's in there."

"What do you mean?"

"He said he'd keep the light on and walk around so if anyone's looking, it looks like I'm in there."

"What'd you have to promise for him to do that?"

"Two Pay Per View movies."

"Boy, he's a cheap date," she smiled at him as his hands started to rub up and down her bare back.

"And what kind of a date are "you?" He asked as he started walking backwards with her until he was at the bed and sat down on the mattress.

"I don't know. That's for you to tell me," she breathed when he pulled her between his legs and immediately started kissing the exposed flesh in front of his face.

He kissed the sensitive area between her breasts before moving on to one of the mounds and pulling the nipple between his lips. His fingers flexed at her waist, pulling her even closer to him. She cradled him to her, let him suckle her as he ran his hands down over the globes of her buttocks, squeezing them before moving on to her thighs. As his tongue and kiss moved down to her stomach, his hand slid up between her thighs, spreading her legs enough for him to insert his two fingers into her core. She had to grasp onto his shoulders when his rhythm started to weaken her, and when she felt her belly start to coil, she reached down and pulled his hand away. He looked up at her and his eyes nearly were her undoing.

"Oh, God!" she groaned as she pushed him back by his shoulders until he was leaning on his elbows and watching her.

She quickly bent over and started to unbutton his jeans and pull down the zipper. She tugged on them until he lifted his hips and she pulled them down to his knees, and she was on him in an instant. Her hunger for him evident as she grabbed his base and inserted as much of his girth into her mouth as she could manage. She was famished for the taste of him. She starved for him and when she glanced up at him she saw how he was still leaning on elbows and watching her. At one point he reached up with one hand and placed it on the back of her head, not using force, but gently showing her the rhythm he wanted. She was somewhat surprised many minutes later when he pulled her head up and got to his feet so quickly that he nearly knocked her over He grabbed her and pulled her to her feet as well then turned her so he was facing her back and she was facing the dresser. His mouth came down on her shoulder, nipping and biting then his hands were covering her breasts. She could feel his hardness bobbing against her backside and before she realized it, he nudged her legs apart with his knees and grabbed onto her hips with one hand while positioning himself at her velvet sheath with the other. He slid inside of her with a hiss of anticipation then began slow, long thrusts as he pressed his chest against her back and hugged her to him.

"My God, Sara, you're like a drug to me. I can't get enough of you."

His thrusting remained slow and powerful and his artful lovemaking had her pressing herself back against him to relieve the pressure he was building up inside of her. Then suddenly she needed more and she grabbed onto his hands, moving one down to the front of her curls where she guided his finger over her hard nub, and she pulled his other hand up to her mouth where she inserted his two fingers into her mouth and proceeded to suck them. She felt the rumble in his chest and his thrusts were coming faster and much more powerful as he strummed the front of her. When she climaxed, she threw her head back against his shoulder and whimpered loudly, provoking him into a powerful climactic ending as strong as hers. He held her to him in a bear-like hug, not willing to release her as her hands held onto his arms. Finally he slipped from her and pulled his pants back up, then pulled her with him back to the bed where he lay down. He covered her with the sheet then pulled her against his side and kissed the top of her head.

"Tired?" he whispered.

"Extremely."

"Sore muscles?"

"Extremely."

"Want me to rub them?"

She chuckled. "Extremely."

He smiled at her as he turned toward her and let his hands work over her arms, back and thighs, massaging each body part with exquisite care. "Is that better?" He asked.

"Huh-uh," she gave her head a negative shake and lifted her legs higher so he could rub her calves.

"How about now? Is that better?"

"Not yet," she said as she turned away from him and pointed to her lower back. "The muscles ache right there."

He did a thorough massage of her sacroiliac area. "How's that?"

"Almost there." This time she pointed to her bottom and wiggled it toward him, making him chuckle.

"I'll be able to rub that much better if you turn around and face me."

She simply smiled and took his hands in hers, then pressed herself back against him. "I was only joking. Actually, you have me so relaxed right now, I'm half asleep."

She felt him kiss the back of her head again and then she dozed off to the sensation of him absently stroking her nipple with his thumb.

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

The scream brought both Grissom and Sara out of a deep sleep as he jumped up from the bed and ran to the window to look outside. Sara pulled the sheet over herself as she waited to hear what was going on, but another scream and the sound of running footsteps coming across the small porch had Grissom yanking open the door to a panic-stricken Greg Sanders, wearing only a towel around his waist that was being held with one hand. When he ran directly into Grissom's arms, he stopped to look at him then screamed again. Grissom quickly closed the door before he could wake anyone else up.

"Greg! What's wrong?" Sara rushed.

"Holy shit!" Greg got out between panting breaths then turned and pulled the curtain back only wide enough to peep through. "Someone got into the room with me! I was in the shower when the bitch came in!"

"Who came in?" Grissom asked as he looked out the window in the direction that Greg was gazing.

"Some woman!" Greg blurted out. "I could only see her through a blur because the curtain was between us—but she had a lot of hair! I mean—a lot of hair! You know, that "big-hair-thing" girls used to wear back when I was a kid! And she was wearing heels with those pink sock thingies that don't have feet in them! Big heels!"

"Is that all you saw?" Grissom asked as he looked at him through knit brows.

"What do you mean is that all I saw? I had some big, crazy woman coming after me in the shower! I didn't stick around to check out her eye color! I hit her in the head with your shampoo bottle and got the hell out of there!"

"You were using my shampoo?" Grissom asked with irritation. "Did I tell you you could go in and use my shower and use my shampoo?"

"Greg," Sara asked after giving Grissom a dirty look. "How did she get in? Didn't you have the door locked?"

"In this place?" He asked with astonishment that she would think otherwise. "Of course I locked my door!"

The sound of people gathering outside opened the door to find Nick, Catherine and Warrick coming toward Sara's door. Grissom and Greg went outside to meet them, allowing Sara time to get dressed. After a short explanation of what had happened, and letting them know that Greg's shower wasn't working in his room so he used Grissom's, they all decided to go and investigate the mystery woman. As they were walking across the living room, Sara caught up with them, and once inside the bathroom area, they saw the shower curtain that had been ripped from its hooks. There were several tears in the plastic and the smear of what appeared to be lipstick. Grissom put his fingers through the tears and looked back at Greg.

"It looks like your visitor had more than just a peep show in mind. This looks like it was done with a knife."

"Oh, God," Greg said weakly, almost as if he were going to faint on the spot.

"Yeah, but Greg wasn't supposed to be in here," Catherine spoke up. "Whatever woman it is—she was looking for you, Gil!"

"They wanted to kill Grissom?" Nick asked. "Who in the hell would want to kill Grissom?"

"Evidently someone who isn't very happy with him right now," Catherine explained then looked back at Grissom. "Where's Sophia?"


	22. Chapter 22

Chapter 22

"What if it wasn't her?" Ecklie said as the group of two women and five men walked to the other side of the motel. "Ya know, there's a very good possibility that it might be our serial killer out to stop Grissom in his tracks."

"What tracks?" Greg blurted out. "They were "my" tracks that she barged in on and tried to slice and dice!"

"Which reminds me!" Ecklie stopped so quickly that Nick walked into his back.

"Watch it, Conrad!" Nick complained. "It's a good thing I wasn't carrying my gun or anything—I would've damn near shot your ass off!"

"Shut up," Ecklie said with a roll of his eyes then looked at Grissom. "Just what were you doing with Greg in your room?"

"He. . .uh. . .we. . .um. . ." Grissom tried but nothing seemed to want to come out.

"He. . .we. . .," Greg started in an attempt to help but couldn't seem to think of anything either. "My shower didn't work!"

"So you went to Grissom's to use his?" Ecklie asked.

"Uh—yeah," Greg told him. "I was going to ask to use yours but Grissom was out at the truck getting . . ."

" A forensics journal," Sara spoke up.

"A forensics journal," Ecklie said dully. "And just how would you know this?"

"Because I. . .was. . .," Sara tried.

"Out smoking a cigarette," Grissom threw in and when Sara looked at him he gave a sickly expression, showing the weakness of his comment. "Filthy habit."

"You were both outside and you didn't see who went into your room after Greg?"

"No. We weren't outside," Sara told him after another dirty look in Grissom's direction. "Grissom was so disturbed at finding me smoking again that he came into my room and took all my cigarettes I had left. He flushed them down the toilet. Can I bring up a grievance against him for doing that?"

"I. . .I'm not sure." Ecklie turned and looked at Grissom. "You shouldn't have flushed her cigarettes, Grissom. If she wants to smoke, she's entitled to a cigarette now and then, especially after all the work the two of you have been putting into this case."

"Yeah, I'd like to have a reward for putting as much work into the case as "they've" been putting into it," Greg sneered but received a jab from Sara.

"Okay, back to what I was getting at." Ecklie started walking toward Sophia's room again. "We don't know for sure it was Sophia. For all we know, the woman got into Sophia's room with her as well."

"Well, it's not as if anyone would actually miss her," Catherine said quietly, bringing a chuckle from Nick.

"That was entirely uncalled for," Ecklie reprimanded. "Now what are you going to do if we get down there and find out she's been mutilated and is lying in pieces on her floor?"

"I'm not cleaning it up!" Greg said. "Let one of the other guys do it."

"Don't look at me," Warrick told them as he walked next to Catherine. "Let Grissom do it. She had a thing for him—not me."

"No one is going to have to clean up pieces of Sophia," Ecklie said. "Once the evidence is collected, the coroner can pick up the pieces and the manager and his wife can clean the rest."

"I'm glad everyone is so concerned about her," Grissom said.

"Yeah, like anyone would've had a chance against that Amazon!" Greg told him.

The small crowd slowly approached the porch to Room #22 and stopped suddenly when they noticed that the door was slightly ajar. Looks of concern were passed amongst them as Ecklie quietly moved across the wooden floor. The door swung open easily and they heard the small motor running, turning Catherine's and Sara's attention to one another with expressions voicing their disbelief.

"You've got to be kidding!" Sara said as she looked back at Grissom and he merely shrugged his shoulders.

"What is it?" Warrick whispered.

"The Powerful Purple Pounding Machine!" Sara told him, bringing a giggle from Catherine.

"Why would anyone leave their door partway open while they were servicing themselves?" Catherine asked as she slowly took a step inside the darkened room with Sara closely following her.

"Hey!" Greg called in a hushed tone from the back of the group of men still on the porch. "If you're going in to see it—so am I!"

"Greg!" Ecklie gave him a look of disapproval. "We're "all" staying out here until Catherine and Sara check it out."

"That's not fair," Greg moped.

"Yeah," Nick said with disgust, "like I'd like to walk in and see that! You're a pervert, Greg."

"I'm not a pervert," he said, more sullen than ever, then looked over at Warrick who was silently watching them. "I'm not."

"Pervert," Warrick accused then looked back toward the room where the girls were slowly approaching the bathing area with their guns drawn.

Finally the women arrived at their destination as they pointed their weapons and jumped around the small wall separating them from the noise coming from the other side. Screams filled the air then Catherine and Sara were hurrying back out through the room with an enraged Sophia following them. Grissom reached inside and turned on the light to the bedroom area and the women stopped as the men went inside with them.

"What are you doing!" Sophia screeched at them with what appeared to be a mouthful of toothpaste spilling from her lips and an electric toothbrush in her hand.

"Someone attacked Greg," Grissom told her as Sara and Catherine put their guns away.

"Oh," Sophia said sweetly, "You were concerned."

"Yeah!" Greg spoke up as he stood halfway behind Warrick and looked at the blonde woman. "We were concerned that "you" were the one who attacked me!"

"Oh—right!" Sophia looked at him angrily. "In your dreams—pervert!"

"Why does everyone say "I'm" the pervert here?" Greg asked. "I'm not the one you thought was inside with her little lavender love-stick!"

"You don't know how glad I am that "that" wasn't what she was using," Catherine assured him.

"You thought I was. . ." Sophia was aghast as she looked at them. "And you still came barging in on me like that! I was brushing my damned teeth!"

"Well, how were we supposed to know?" Sara asked. "You're the one with the substitute boy-toy you like waving under everyone's noses! Well, not figuratively, but. . .you know what I mean."

"Can we all forget about Sophia's fetishes?" Warrick said quietly. "Frankly the thought of her with her utensil turns my stomach."

"Shut up!" Sophia turned her ire on him.

"You shut up," Catherine ordered. "He didn't do anything. The thought of actually seeing you with it turns my stomach too!"

"Yeah, mine too," Nick agreed quietly.

"Would everyone "please" forget about this subject!" Ecklie spoke up as he turned toward Grissom who was now leaning back against the door jam, watching everyone. "Do you "always" put up with this kind of behavior?"

"It's not every day that someone tries to kill one of my CSIs with a butcher knife," Grissom told him. "I think they've got good cause to be a little ruffled."

"Why would anyone want to kill Sanders?" Sophia asked with toothpaste still dripping from her mouth. "It's not like he's a danger to anyone. He's about as insignificant as they come."

"Yeah, well at least I don't. . ." Greg started.

"Don't!" Ecklie warned.

"Well, why was she in here brushing her teeth with her door wide open? She was waiting for Grissom to come and compete with her little. . ."

"Greg!"

"Was it little?" Catherine asked Sara with a raised brow. "Hardly seems worthwhile if it was little."

"Nah," Sara said quietly to her. "It was about the size of a baseball bat."

"Wow! That's impressive, Sophia!" Catherine told her.

"It is not!" Sophia raised her voice at Catherine then turned back to Sara. "You mind your own damned business! I'd like to get a look into "your" top dresser drawer! You've probably got a wide assortment of accessories!"

"I don't need accessories, stupid! I've got the real thing!" Sara took a step toward the blonde.

"Yeah!" Sophia hissed back at her. "Hangin' between your legs!"

"Oh, you bitch!" Sara took a swing toward Sophia but was jerked back by her belt loops when Grissom grabbed her and pulled her until she was leaning back against him.

"Keep her under control," Ecklie told Grissom then turned back toward Sophia, not seeing the big grin Sara sent Sophia's way, clearing rubbing it into the blonde woman's face that she was in Grissom's arms while the other woman was not.

"You think you're so goddamned. . ." Sophia started as she stepped toward her, but Ecklie put his hand on her shoulder and pushed her back.

"Got a problem, So-phi-a?" Sara asked as she slid her hands up over Grissom's hands in a gentle caress that no one else apparently saw except maybe Greg, as the rest of them were watching Ecklie and Sophia.

"Would you look at them!" Sophia said with huge eyes as she pointed to Grissom and Sara but when Ecklie turned around Sara was looking at him through a face of pure innocence and Grissom wasn't doing much different as he looked at his superior with a questioning gaze.

"You told me to keep her under control," Grissom said.

"I "told" him to keep her under control," Ecklie agreed as he turned back to Sophia. "Now, like Greg said, what were you doing in here with your door wide open? There's a serial killer on the loose and you're more worried about enticing your supervisor into your room than your own safety?"

Although Ecklie was very serious, this remark brought smirks from Nick and Warrick.

"I didn't have my door open," Sophia turned her eyes from the other two men back to Ecklie. "I closed it after Officer. . ." Sophia struggled for the man's last name. "Jeremy left."

"When did he leave?" Ecklie asked.

"None of your business." Sophia looked at him indignantly.

"Sophia, we need to know if Officer. . ." Ecklie looked around at the other members of the crew. "Does "anyone" know his last name?"

"It isn't "officer," Grissom told him. "It's "deputy," Deputy Higgins."

"We need to know if he's alright. He may have had a run-in with the woman who tried to kill Greg."

"It was a woman?" Sophia laughed as she looked at Greg. "What's wrong, nerd-boy? Couldn't satisfy your little lady, so she came after ya?"

"Yeah, listen to you!" Greg sneered. "If you want to talk about "satisfaction," let's discuss your need for . . ."

"Sanders!" Ecklie scolded. "Let it be."

"Well, she's such a bitch," Greg told him.

"I'm not a bitch," she glared at him.

"Yeah," Nick said quietly as he looked at Warrick who was nodding his head in agreement with Nick and Greg. "She's a bitch."

"See!" Sophia turned toward Ecklie and threw herself against him with her arms around his neck as she tried for some sympathy. "See how they talk about me!"

"Sophia," Ecklie said with a grimace as he patted her back twice, then put his hands on her upper arms and pushed her gently away. "Don't do that. You got your toothpaste all over my shirt."

He took a few steps back as he wiped at the white substance on the shoulder of his tee-shirt before looking back at Grissom. "I think we better check in on our local deputy to make sure he made it home safely."

"Warrick—Nick, go to my room and start printing. Catherine, Greg, check the area around here. If the woman was trying to get in at Sophia, she could have left prints here as well." Grissom watched as Nick and Warrick started out of the room, followed by Ecklie, then Catherine and Greg.

"I'm going back to the sheriff's office to check on the whereabouts of Deputy Higgens." Ecklie stepped down off the porch and started across the parking lot. "Sophia," he called over his shoulder. "Get dressed and you can join me. I'll be waiting outside my room."

Sara looked at Sophia who was watching everyone else leave her room, then when the blonde looked back at Grissom and Sara, Sara slowly raised Grissom's hand where she inserted his finger into her mouth and ran her lips and tongue down over it, eliciting a screech from the other woman as she ran toward them.

"Ecklie!" Sara yelled, stopping Sophia in her tracks. "Sophia's trying to hit me again!"

"Sophia!" Ecklie turned and looked at the blonde's wide eyes as she stood in the middle of her room still holding her toothbrush in one hand. "Leave Sara the hell alone! She's only doing her job!"

"But. . ." Sophia tried but Ecklie turned and went on his way again.

"In front of my room—in five minutes!"

Sara looked at Sophia and smiled as she started out of the room with Grissom, receiving a warning from the man.

"Stop it."

"She deserves it," Sara said as they walked across the parking lot toward Sara's side of the building.

"I said stop it."


	23. Chapter 23

A/N: So sorry it is taking so long to post. Real life has reared its ugly head and put a freeze on my creativity these past few weeks. Fall semester starts next week but I will continue writing as much as I can. I'll try to keep the stories flowing.

Chapter 23

By sunrise they had completed investigating Grissom's motel room and the surrounding area but came up empty. They were soon joined by Deputy Higgins, who couldn't seem to keep his eyes off of a certain blonde CSI as she would send him glances that weren't exactly inviting.

"What's the story with Deputy Higgins?" Catherine asked as she and Sara clicked some photos of the some footprints outside Grissom's.

"None of your business," Sophia told her.

"He seems quite smitten with you, Soph!" Sara said in an overly friendly manner. "Not quite the man of your dreams last night after he walked you home?"

Sophia turned and gave Deputy Higgins a false smile before turning and looking back at the other two women. "Not if you think four strokes and a grunt is something to write home about."

Sophia's admission brought a surprised giggles from Sara and Catherine.

"Holy shit, Sophia! I was only kidding!" Catherine blurted out. "Did you really take him back to your room and try him out for size?"

"Well," Sara said as she continued taking pictures. "Anything is better than a battery operated joy stick."

"Ya know, I've had just about enough of your mouth. . ."

"Sophia," Ecklie approached the women with Grissom at his side. "Has anything turned up in the labs?"

"Nothing we didn't already know."

"Well, nothing else seems to be damaged," the sheriff told them as he walked up with Deputy Higgins. "I can understand if you all would like to get some rest before we move on with the case. I wouldn't mind getting an hour or two nap before diving into a mug of coffee and starting in again."

"I think that sounds like a fair idea," Ecklie told the man then turned to look at Grissom. "Let your men know what's going on. We all need some rest so we can get a fresh start. We can all start in again by noon."

They watched as the sheriff turned and started walking toward his patrol car but Deputy Higgins moved over toward Sophia who made a bee-line behind the closest person to her, who happened to be Ecklie.

"Excuse me, Sophia," Higgins said politely. "I was wondering. . ."

"I've got some records to go over with my supervisor, Jeremy. I'll see you at noon."

"Well, alright." He looked at Ecklie who ineffectively trying to get away from the blond CSI. "I'll see you in a few hours."

"The sheriff said we were all supposed to come back and get some sleep," said Nick as he, Warrick and Greg walked across the parking lot toward them.

"Looks like Grissom's bunking with you, Greg," Sara suggested as she started back toward her room.

"Why me?" Greg asked.

"You used his shower—and that's when his room became unusable. So, he can sleep with you," Nick told him then started toward his room.

"Well, I don't want to go to my room all by myself!" Sophia whined, bringing Ecklie to a stop as he hesitantly turned and looked at the woman before hanging his head in defeat. "Catherine?"

"Not me," Catherine was already on her way toward her room. "I'm quite comfortable in my room. I'm not bunking in her room with her."

"Can't she. . ."

"She's not coming into my room either. Send her in with Greg."

"Grissom's going in with Greg," Ecklie told her.

"Then you take her."

"I can't take her!" Ecklie told her. "She's going to have to bunk with you, Catherine. . .or Sara will have to move into your room and Sophia can take Sara's room."

"I'll take Sara," Catherine told him. "Sophia should be safe snuggled between Grissom and Greg's room, and Nick and Warrick's."

Sara looked over at Grissom as he glanced up at her and with a slight shrug of his shoulders, he moved back toward Greg's room. Sara went to her room and started moving her things into Catherine's room, then soon collapsed on the free bed and fell into a fitful sleep. By eleven o'clock Catherine was shaking her shoulder and alerting her that they were to meet down at the sheriff's office.

They worked on through the evening, having boxed dinner delivered as they continued working although they were coming up empty, then by ten that night, they were all meeting back at the parking lot so they could call it a day and try to get a good night's sleep.

Sara and Grissom looked at one another then with the slightest nod of his head, Grissom turned and started walking toward the truck parked at the other side of the lot. After a moment, Sara followed under the pretext of getting her novel out of the cab.

"I'm taking a shower. Are you up for a walk when I'm done?" Grissom asked as he retrieved some extra gloves from the supply inside.

"As soon as I finish with my own shower. Where do you want to go?"

"We'll decide when we're out of everyone's line of vision. Meet me on the other side of the office in about an hour."

Sara nodded her agreement then followed him back to where the other members of their crew were still milling about. As she approached Catherine, the other woman looked down at the book Sara was holding in her hand.

"Looks like you've read through that book a dozen times," Catherine said, referring to the worn state of the cover.

"Not quite a dozen, but it's getting close to half a dozen," Sara told her.

"What's it called?"

"_My Heart Can't Tell You No,_" Sara started walking inside Catherine's room with her. "It's an amazing story."

"It doesn't look like your normal run-of-the-mill romance novel."

"It isn't. It's funny—it's sad—it's moving—thought provoking—definitely a good read."

"Mind if I borrow it when you're done?"

"Here, you can start it now while I'm in the shower."

"But you're reading it."

"You'll be finished with it within a few days—I guarantee it. Once you start, you can't put it down. Give it a shot and see for yourself."

Catherine took the book and sat on the edge of the bed as Sara moved toward the bathroom. By the time she came from the shower with a towel wrapped around her body, she saw that Catherine was well into the third chapter of the book. Catherine seemed completely engrossed in the story as Sara casually dressed then mumbled that she was going out to grab a Diet-Pepsi. She hadn't planned on giving her book to Catherine, but now that she thought of it, it was a magnificent idea. She knew from her own experience that Catherine would become so involved in the storyline that she wouldn't even notice how long Sara was gone.

Sara moved quickly along the edges of the parking lot until she saw the lone figure standing on the other side of the office doorway. She gave him a shy smile and was slightly surprised when he reached out and took her hand, pulling her along with him as he started across the cooling desert sand. His arm soon found its way around her waist and before they had even traveled twenty yards, he paused to press a warm kiss on her forehead before starting on their walk again.

"Do we have a destination?" Sara asked as she smiled up at him.

"Hmm?" He glanced at her. "Of course we have a destination; a spot far enough away to give us privacy and a beautiful view of the heavens above us, although the heavens will have a run for their money competing with you tonight."

Sara gave a soft laugh as she continued walking with him and after about five minutes he drew her in his arms and looked down at her. His eyes practically twinkled as she smiled back up at him.

"You got something on your mind, cowboy?" She asked.

"Mmm," he agreed as he nodded slightly then lowered his head until his lips brushed over hers. When she leaned into him to deepen the kiss, he pulled back and released his hold on her. She looked at him through curiosity as she watched him remove his jacket, then understanding as he spread it on the sand. "Feel like going for a ride, my dear?"

She chuckled as he moved onto the jacket, taking her hand as he lowered himself, then gently tugging her until she was on the ground next to him. She glanced around at their surroundings, taking in the blue/black sky with diamond stars throughout, then back toward the lights of the motel that could be seen in the distance.

"Are you sure we'll be okay out here?"

"Why?" He asked as he skooched down until he was lying on his back. "Are you afraid we'll be seen all the way from the motel? I don't think anyone will be looking for us out here, and if they are, they can't see us in the dark."

"They could hear us."

"I'll try not to scream too loudly," he teased as his thumb stroked the top of her hand.

She gave him a shy smile again then moved until she was straddling his hips and leaning back against his thighs. He reached for her feet that were on either side of his chest and removed her flip-flops, massaging her feet a moment before letting his hands slide up her calves and onto her knees.

"I'm glad I took the time to shave my legs," she said when his fingers drifted higher on her legs.

"Are you?" He kept his hands on her thighs but stroked both thumbs at the most sensitive area of her legs before they disappeared into her shorts. "I didn't shave mine."

She giggled again as she maneuvered her legs until she could lean forward and lay on top of him. "I should hope not. I like your legs just the way they are."

He looked up into her eyes and she thought she might melt against him. Those eyes of his; they had the most amazing way of sending her senses reeling. He seemed to know what she was thinking as his lips curved in an impish smile.

"Like that, don't ya?" He asked.

"You do that on purpose, don't you?"

"What?" He laughed.

"Look at me like that. You know when you look at me that way, I'll do anything you want."

"Really? I don't think so. I've been looking at you like this for years and you haven't gone out of your way to do the things I've had in mind."

"And just what have you had in mind?" She leaned on her elbows, on either side of his head as she traced her fingers of her right hand through the thick curl that was resting on his forehead. "Some little fantasy that I haven't thought of?"

"Well, actually. . ." His twinkling eyes made her smile brightly at him. His new, teasing, moods were enchanting her. "There was this Little Bo Peep outfit I've been thinking about. . ."

"Oh, you have," she said indulgently.

"Mm-hmm," then he added with more faux enthusiasm, "and then "you" could dress up as a sheep. . ."

His insinuation that "he" would be dressed as Little Bo Peep took half a second to sink in, then made her laugh in a sudden burst, making him chuckle in response to her. He turned with her until they were both on their sides and she was resting her head on his upper arm as he moved his left hand to push her hair behind her ear, then he kissed her forehead.

"Ya know, that thought really didn't do anything to help you in your "virility" department."

"No, I guess I've damaged that image," he smiled as he reached down and lifted her leg until it was hooked over his hip and his hand moved up her thigh until he was massaging her bottom. "Any chance that I can erase that image?"

"You can try," she told him in a low voice as she moved onto her back and pulled him with her. His lips met hers in a slow, smoldering kiss that he let linger before moving on to her throat and down between the opened buttons of her blouse. "I just better never find any frilly dresses, bonnet or a herding staff hidden in your closet."

She could feel him smile against the sensitive area between her breasts as he continued kissing her. "I guess I better clean out the supply closet in my office, then."

His remark earned him a jab in the shoulder and he chuckled before moving back up to her lips and beginning a kiss that had the rest of her body moving in immediate response. She moaned into his mouth as her hands slid up under his shirt, taking in the slight moisture that the heat of the night was causing, then sliding back down until she slid her fingers inside his jeans. She took her pleasure in massaging his strong buttocks and soon she could feel him growing against her but when she reached for the front of him, he grabbed her wrists and held them against his jacket below them. He transferred both into one hand then reached between them, opening her blouse completely as his mouth moved down her body, then unbuttoning her shorts and pressing down the zipper. He took his time as he devoured her breasts, earning him small groans of satisfaction, then when he moved lower, the groans turned to whimpers until he pulled her pants from her and gave her the satisfaction she was seeking. Her hands went into his hair, immediately taking in the thick softness and encouraging him as she alternately pulled and positioned him. He lifted her to give himself better access to her core and denied her nothing. He seemed to read the sounds that were coming from her throat as well as the movements of her body and hands because the moment she thought she was going to die from pure anticipation, he quickly flipped her over onto her stomach and moved up behind her. She barely had time to realize what he was doing before she heard him pulling down his own zipper and she felt him positioning himself at her opening. The guttural moan that escaped her throat as he slid his girth inside of her was intense, so intense that he chuckled lightly as he kissed the back of her shoulders. He murmured something about scaring the coyotes away but then was quickly as consumed by their mating as she.

Their release was more explosive than they had anticipated and when they lie on the ground trying to regain a regular breathing pattern Grissom held onto her tightly as he buried his face against her hair.

"Your hair," he breathed against her neck. "It smells wonderful."

"As opposed to lemons and decomp?"

He moved off of her a moment and turned her to more fully face him as he smiled down at her then kissed her lips. He looked like he was about to say something more, but the shrill sound of a scream split the night air. They both looked in the direction of the motel where they could hear more screams, some male voices yelling and doors banging. Sara and Grissom looked at one another then hurried as they redressed and started back to their co-workers who were now scurrying around the well-lit parking lot.


	24. Chapter 24

A/N: I'm posting this rather quickly before running off to school for the day. If there are any mistakes, I apologize. I'll check it over more carefully when I return tonight. I hope you enjoy the adventures of our favorite CSIs!

Chapter 24

Nick and Warrick stood in the light that was shining down from the streetlamp into the parking lot. Catherine stood with her hands on her hips as she stared at a visibly upset Sophia who was bouncing from hysterics to anger and back again, while Greg sat on the porch clearly in his own state of upheaval.

"What's going on?" Grissom asked Conrad as the bald man stood with his hand on Greg's shoulder to comfort him.

"It was her!" Greg blurted out as he looked up at Sara and Grissom. "She came back!"

"Who?" Sara asked. "The woman who attacked you last night?"

"She was peering into Sophia's window when Greg saw her from his doorway," Conrad explained as he looked at the blonde woman who was now pacing before him.

"Are you sure it was the same woman?" Grissom asked.

"Positive," Greg said with a shudder. "Same big hair, same big heels and pink leg thingies! She looked like she stepped out of a Madonna video."

"Did you see her?" Grissom asked Sophia. "Is that why you screamed?"

"Uh," Greg said quietly. "That wasn't her. I sort of screamed a little bit."

"A little bit?" Sophia asked with evident shock. "I was all the way in the bathroom and heard you!"

"You sure do spend an awful lot of time in the bathroom," Nick said grimly.

"It was all those lemons she ate," Warrick told him. "Cleaned her out like Draino."

"I didn't "eat" the lemons—idiot!" Sophia scoffed.

"Idiot?" Catherine grumbled. "He isn't the one who tried to rub rotting lemons in his hair!"

"That was you who screamed?" Sara asked with half a smile as she looked at Greg.

"Well—she was big!" Greg explained. "And when she heard me, she turned around and looked right at me. I thought for sure she was going to come after me again, but then Nick and Warrick and everyone came running out."

"And no one caught up with her?" Grissom asked.

"I didn't see her," Nick told him. "Warrick and I looked around but there were no signs of her. It was like she disappeared into thin air. I don't know why you and Sara didn't see her. Greg said you both were out checking tracks you found before dinner."

"Checking tracks, my ass!" Sophia complained but Ecklie spoke up.

"That's another thing, Grissom. I can really appreciate the fact that you want to get this case finished—but you've been working Sara way too hard these past two days. There's no reason you should have had her out there in the middle of the night looking at trails that could've waited until tomorrow morning. If you don't let her get some sleep soon, she isn't going to be any good to any of us and we can use all the hands we have."

"They weren't looking for trails!" Sophia said with disbelief.

"Oh, Sophia," Catherine said as she turned back toward her own room. "Get over it! I know Gil, and believe me, he'd never take someone out into the middle of the desert for a quickie. He's too stuffy to even come up with the idea. So you can get that little fantasy out of your bubble-head."

"Catherine," Ecklie called after her, making the redhead stop and look back at him. "I know you're not going to want to hear this, but under the circumstances I think it would be best to put Sophia in the room with you and Sara. I don't want anyone alone."

"I'm not going to sleep in the same room as Sara and Catherine!" Sophia retorted.

"Would you rather sleep with our wandering lunatic?" Ecklie turned back toward Grissom. "Anyway, I don't think any of us are going to get much sleep for awhile. Warrick, did you get through to the sheriff?"

"He's on his way. He said he'll get the deputy and call in a few more to help search the area."

"Are we supposed to look around?" Sara asked as she brushed her hands down the front of her jeans to knock off a piece of dried weeds and in the process realizing that her panties were partially hanging out of one of the front pockets.

"Whatcha got there?" Sophia asked with saccharine sweetness just gushing from her as she looked at Sara who was now stuffing the satin cloth into hiding. "A little satin and lace? Funny place to put your underwear, Sara—especially in the middle of the damned desert!"

Sophia seemed especially satisfied with the doe-eyed look she received from Sara and almost laughed until she saw Greg step toward the other woman and grab the pink object.

"You found them!" Greg said stupidly, turning Sara and Grissom toward him in question before he went on to finish his thought. "That's what the Amazon was wearing! You must've found them after she ran off!"

"Her underwear?" Sophia scowled. "You saw her underwear?"

"I told ya she was dressed like Madonna! Didn't Madonna wear her underwear over her clothes?"

"Her bra, stupid!" Sophia told him. "Not her freaking panties!"

"Well," Greg said as he thought a moment. "She was. . .confused! I never said she was a "brilliant" woman—only a Madonna wannabe!"

"Greg," Ecklie looked at the young man holding the pink lace and satin article. "Try not to handle them too much. We can take them in for DNA testing."

"Oh," Greg seemed to deflate before their very eyes. "I—uh—well—they aren't "really" the Amazon's."

"They're not." Ecklie looked at him with a raised brow.

"Of course they're not!" Sophia told him with exasperation.

"Would you like to fill us in on whom they might belong to?" Ecklie asked.

"Uh. . ." Greg gave a huge gulp, then went on weakly. ". . .they're. . .mine."

"Yours!" Sophia gave an unbelieving laugh. "Yours!"

"Well," Greg seemed to be turning all shades, changing from embarrassed pink to red, then a pale white and finally a sickly green. "Sometimes I like to feel pretty?"

"Ah, man," Nick scrunched up his face as he looked at his young friend. "That's something I didn't need to know about you! Jesus!"

Warrick simply chuckled as he pulled the panties from Greg's hands. "They aren't yours. What'd ya do, big guy? Hire one of the locals for the night?"

"Oh, come on!" Sophia nearly stomped her foot. "They're Sara's!"

"What would Sara be doing with her under clothing in her pocket, Sophia?" Ecklie scoffed. "You're not making sense. Evidently Sara found them out there while they were looking for tracks. I don't know "what" Greg's talking about, but I doubt very highly that he'd have the nerve to try to hire a hooker, especially while we're here working a case. So, what "were" you talking about and why are you lying about evidence?"

"I—uh-. . ."

"He knows I've been having problems with incontinence," Sara blurted out then turned bright pink when she looked over at Grissom who was, as usual, just standing by and watching the story unfold before him. "He wanted to save me the embarrassment of telling you that I peed on them a little."

"So you took them off but not your jeans? Ah, come on!" Sophia said sarcastically.

"What can I say? I had to pee while we were out there and when I squatted down, it got on my panties, but missed my jeans. So I took them off and put my jeans back on. Nothing so bizarre about that, is there?"

"Oh, no. Nothing," Sophia agreed. "Other than you're out in the middle of nowhere—in the dark—relieving yourself in front of Grissom!"

"Well, it isn't as if I stand around watching women urinate, Sophia," Grissom told her. "I don't find that especially attractive."

"Ew!" Sara spoke up quickly. "Is that it? Soph's into voyeurism! She likes to watch people go to the toilet!"

"You're disgusting," Sophia mumbled.

"Alright," Ecklie turned away from the group in exasperation. "I don't think I need to hear any more about Sara's personal health problems, or her hygiene. That's a bit more than I needed to know. Sara, go tend to your. . .problem."

"I'll be right out," Sara told him then disappeared into the motel room when she came out she found the sheriff and Deputy Higgins as they talked with Ecklie and Grissom while several other officers wandered about looking for any signs of the intruder.

It took another two hours before they were given the go-ahead to go to bed for the rest of the night, but upon seeing Sara settling on the bed nearest the bathroom while Catherine spread herself on the one closest to the door, Sophia dropped her evidence case on the floor with a huge clatter.

"Sophia!" Catherine voiced her irritation. "Do you mind! Some people around here are tired and need their sleep!"

"Man," Sara yawned into the pillow as she stretched her sore body. "I know I'm exhausted. I could sleep for a week."

"Oh, who cares what you could do!" Sophia moved to the edge of Catherine's bed. "Move over."

"Go sleep with her. I'm comfortable just the way I am and I'm not moving."

"I'm not. . ."

"Move it or lose it, blondie!" Catherine growled.

Sophia walked over and looked down at Sara with a grimace before gingerly sliding onto the mattress next to her. Sara opened one eye to look at her and stifled a chuckle at the stiffness of the other woman's body as she lay like a board.

"What's so funny?"

"You," Sara told her. "What's the matter? Not in the mood to cuddle?"

"Oh, you'd like that, wouldn't you?" Sophia turned away from Sara with an angry jerk. "Just to make Grissom think you were some hot bi ready to play sex games in some freaky orgy!"

This made Sara chuckle again as she turned her back toward her. "Sorry, kiddo, but I don't care how much I want a man, I'm not into the ménage a trios scene and never will be. But I hear there's an overly affectionate Amazon out there roaming about who might be interested in your fantasies."

"MY fantasies!" Sophia gasped. "I never said I. . ."

"Sophia!" Catherine practically yelled at her. "Would you shut the hell up? And goddammit, if I can't trust you over there with Sara, you're gonna have to go sleep in the tub!"

"You two can just go to hell!" Sophia got back up from the bed and stormed off toward the door. "You two deserve each other!"

"Well, we sure as hell don't deserve you," Catherine told her sleepily. "Now go to bed and shut up!"

"I'm not going to bed with you two! I've had enough!" Sophia growled as she yanked the door open but the sight of the tall woman with busy auburn hair that fell in a mass of curls nearly to her waist, a purple cashmere vest covering a lavender tank top with skin tight black slacks, hot pink , knit leggings and three-inch spiked heels. "Hoooo-llllly shit!"

Sophia's attempt to slam the door closed in the huge woman's face bounced it back open and hit the blonde's shoulder. She gave another attempt to slam the door as she started rushing backwards until she fell on top of Sara on the bed.

"Dammit, Soph!" Sara twisted around to chew the other woman out but stopped mid-sentence upon the sight of the figure that was pulling a knife from the purse at her side. "Oh, shit."

"Don't move! Any of you," came the falsetto voice as she stood with the light silhouetting her entire body.

"Greg, I'm not in the mood for your jokes right now," Catherine began as she turned to look at the person standing at the bottom of her bed.

"I don't think it's Greggo," Sara told her as she and Sophia sat, frozen on their bed, both now in their professional mode as they were on high alert but unable to do anything at the moment other than watch the events unfolding before them.

"Greggo," the woman smirked. "As if! I could so totally wipe the floor up with that piece of work! No. . . it isn't good ol' Greggo."

"Well," said Catherine as she slowly and cautiously turned over until she was sitting on her bed. "Do you want to fill us in on just "who" you might be?"

"Let's just say I'm someone who's tired of watching this town get infiltrated with trashy females who want to contaminate the men in it. All they have on their minds is filth! I see it going on all around me—and I won't let it go any farther!"

"Okay," Catherine said in a matter-of-fact tone. "So, we'll stop being filthy. Problem solved."

"You wish it would be so easy! You—with the bright red hair and the eyes that are always on that man with the chocolate skin. . .the beautiful green eyes. . .and those lips. . ." The woman actually shuddered dreamily then seemed to come back to her senses. "And you! You had your opportunity with someone clean. . .someone that could teach you how to be a proper woman, but you chose to tarnish him! You dirty slut! You deserve to die first!"

"First?" Sara asked as she looked at him. "I can understand if you're upset with Soph—we all feel that way sometimes, well, actually, a lot of the time, but that doesn't mean it has to go any farther than her, does it?"

This comment brought a sick look from Sophia as she turned to stare at Sara, who merely smiled quickly before looking back at the woman in charge. Her statement seemed to catch the woman off guard as well as she stared back at her.

"No, I don't suppose it does. . .I mean. . .it's not like you two actually seduced the deputy. . ." the woman's eyes came back to Sara with clarity. "Wait a minute! If one dies—all three die!"

"Well," Catherine pouted. "That hardly seems fair, does it?"

"Doesn't seem fair to me," Sara agreed. "I mean, Soph's the slut here, not us."

"Shut. . .up," Sophia growled through clenched teeth as she stared at Sara through wide eyes.

"Well it's true! God, you didn't even know Jake a whole day and you had him in your motel room. . .what did you say? Getting four strokes and a grunt?"

"It's Jeremy!" The woman gasped. "And it was more than four strokes!"

"You've got some nerve!" Sophia said, seeming to forget about the woman as she got to her feet and faced Sara. "Listen to you! How long were you here before you were. . ."

The sound of a sudden knock on their door turned the woman's attention away from the three women, giving them the time they needed to lunge. Screams filled the air as Catherine pulled the woman's hair, only to have a large wig come off in her hands; Sara grabbed for the woman but grabbed onto a pair of silicone breasts that were shoved around to her armpits. Sophia seemed to be the only one who actually got her mark as she grabbed the woman's arm that was holding the knife and chomped down on her exposed flesh.

The door swung open and Ecklie stood there with a six-pack of Pepsi in his hand. "Ladies, the guys picked up some soda. They thought you might like some. What the hell?"

The woman was unsuccessfully trying to yank Sophia's teeth from her arm as Catherine and Sara stared at the figure in shock. Ecklie, seeing his three female CSIs in danger reacted quickly by swinging the six-pack of soda with all his might until it came in contact with the assailants face. The person dropped like a sack of potatoes.

Sara wasted no time kicking the knife away from the unconscious body as Catherine turned on the lights and the four of them stared at the person on the floor.

"Deputy Higgins?" Catherine said with awe. "Damn! He made a fine-looking woman!"


	25. Chapter 25

Chapter 25

Grissom, Warrick, Nick and Greg charged into the room with the others, stopping abruptly upon seeing Sara holding the knife with a glove to guard it, Catherine putting the wig into a bag as evidence and Ecklie holding a gun on the still unconscious deputy. Sophia stood scowling down at the man with heavy rouge, lipstick and eyeliner; the false breasts that were now lopsided and ridiculous and the rest of his attire that screamed transvestite with mommy problems! Without warning, she kicked him in the side, producing a moan from the assailant.

"It "was too" four strokes and a grunt!" Sophia growled as she held her hand to her face.

"Four strokes and a what?" Ecklie looked at her strangely.

"Nothing," she grumbled then looked up at the balding man before her.

"Nick—Warrick—take over here," Ecklie told the younger men then stepped closer to Sophia as he bent slightly to look more closely at her swollen lips with blood smeared on them. "You're hurt, Sophia."

"So?" She pouted then let her eyes moved over his tee-shirt-clad chest before slowly coming back up to his eyes. "I mean. . .yes, I am."

"It doesn't look like Deputy Higgins is in very good shape either," Greg spoke up as he looked at the gaping wound on the man's forearm. "She damn near bit his arm off!"

"Shut up!" She hissed then looked back at Ecklie as her eyes softened dramatically. "You—you saved me."

"Well," he said reluctantly as he ushered her to the edge of the bed then got a wet cloth and dabbed at her mouth. "How badly did he injure you?"

"I think he tore my lip," she said quietly as her eyes stayed on his although he was watching the area he was wiping the blood from. "You came in here and saved my life, Conrad."

"Well, I couldn't let my CSIs get hurt, now could I?" He soothed as he continued to swab the injured area then gave her a small smile. "You can be pretty ferocious when you have to be, can't you?"

"I guess I can," she gave him a small smile back.

Sara looked over at Grissom and gave him an amazed roll of the eyes before they looked at the man who was now beginning to regain consciousness. Grissom stepped to the side as the sheriff rushed into the room then gave a sorrowful moan as he knelt down next to his deputy.

"Ah, boy," he said quietly as the deputy slowly opened his eyes and looked at the older man. "What's gotten into you?"

"I told you before, Delbert," Deputy Higgins responded in his falsetto voice. "If we let that boy loose, he's going to be getting himself into trouble before we can stop him. Every time he sees one of those girls, they have to push and push until they overpower him and fill him with lust."

"Jer?" The sheriff knit his brows as he stared in disbelief. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"I told Jeremy," Higgins continued, clearly not in his right mind. "I told him how you loved me. I told him how you couldn't marry me because I was only sixteen and you were married. I told him that you couldn't tell anyone that you were his daddy because you wouldn't be elected sheriff. I explained to him that it was all my fault. . .that I taunted and teased you until you had no choice but to take me to your bed and relieve the ache in your loins. . .relieve the lust that filled you as I would beg for you to be with me. I told him that he had to stay away from girls like that—or they'd ruin his chances of becoming sheriff some day like his daddy. But the girls wouldn't let him go! I had to take care of them so they wouldn't tempt him anymore. And then, of course, when the others got too close to realizing what they were doing to our baby, well, I had to take care of them too. You understand, don't you, Delbert? You know I had to protect our baby."

The sheriff watched the young man go on and on, then slowly pulled his cuffs from his belt and placed them around the deputy's wrists. He assisted him onto his feet and caught him when he stumbled on his three-inch heels, then in a moment of grief, wrapped his arms around the young man and hugged him to him as he let only one sob escape. Two other offices stood in the doorway, aghast at the scene before them, until with a large sniff, the sheriff held the deputy out from him and looked closely at him.

"Jeremy—son. . ."

"It's Angie, Delbert," Jeremy smiled at his father. "Don't tell me you don't recognize me."

"Jeremy, you're going to be fine, now. But we've got to go to see a doctor right now, okay?"

"That boy!" Jeremy gave a small laugh. "He's going to be the death of me! You watch! Him with his nasty ways. Watching, always watching those girls! He thinks no one sees him. But I do. I always see him. I know what corruption goes through his filthy little mind."

Grissom moved out of the way as the two officers and sheriff took the deputy out of the room and placed him into a squad car.

"Are you okay?" He asked Sara quietly and she gave him an affirmative nod before they looked back at Ecklie and Sophia who were still at the foot of the bed.

"I think you're lip is going to be alright now, Sophia," Ecklie told her as he put the cloth into her hand then stood erect and turned back to Grissom. "I don't know that there's much more evidence needed for this case, but we don't want to let anything slip by. After what the ladies have been through, we ought to let them get some sleep. They can go to my room while we're collecting what we can in here."

Grissom nodded his head then walked out the door with Sara. He took her down to the truck that had been returned to the parking lot, now in reasonable working order since their little mishap the other night.

"I—was frightened when I heard the screams," he said quietly as they stood with the truck blocking the other's view of them.

"I'm just glad you were out there. I thought you had gone to bed."

"I couldn't sleep," he explained with half a smile. "I tried to but thoughts of a certain brunette kept swimming through my head and then when I remembered you standing there with those pink panties hanging out of your front pocket, the contrast between the denim and the satin and lace. . .well. . .let's just say it wasn't doing me a bit of good being holed up without you. I got up and left the room and Warrick and Nick were already outside. They grabbed some soda from their truck and told Ecklie to give you and Catherine some."

"I saw that. But he ended up giving it to our local transvestite deputy instead—right in the face!" She took a step closer to him. "So, do you want to tell me a little bit more about images of me with my panties, which by the way, you removed from me?"

"I guess I could ask why they were in your pocket, but considering how quickly we came back here, I presume they got lost in the darkness then were found after you had your jeans on."

"Mmm," she hummed as she stepped up and pressed her lips against his. "You're so smart. You figured that out without any help from me, after all."

"I had some entertaining moments to think about it while I was leaving my motel room," he smiled as he put his arms around her waist.

"I don't suppose there's any way we could trade Greg off with Catherine or Sophia for the rest of the night, is there?"

He groaned his desire and disappointment as he pressed her back against the truck and gently gyrated the evidence of his need against her pelvis. "I wish."

"Boss! Do you have any extra gloves in there? I went through my supply over at the graves today." Nick came around the side of the truck just as Grissom was releasing Sara.

"Well, I've got to go get some sleep," Sara said with a teasing smile to Grissom as she started toward the front of the truck. "I'm going to bed and won't be up for days."

"A few hours," he called after her. "Then we should have things wrapped up and be on our way."

True to his word, by noon the following day, the crew of CSIs were packed and loading their vehicles just as the sheriff drove up to them. He got out of his car and moved toward Grissom and Ecklie, exhaustion showing clearly on his worn features.

"I suppose an explanation is in order," he said as he held his hat in front of him. "Jeremy, as you've probably already figured out, is my son to Angie Higgins. And much of what Jeremy said last night is true. I couldn't marry her. She was too young—only sixteen when she had him—and I was already married with three other children. But I always treated Jeremy as if he were one of my own. He never wanted for anything. . .well, maybe except legitimacy. His mama, by the time she was eighteen, moved on from me. I can't really say that I blame her. I wasn't prepared to leave my wife. So, Angie started seeing more than her fair share of men. She was actually quite popular around here. She was young and beautiful, trendy, I guess you could say. She was a child of the eighties, so as you could see, the clothing Jeremy was wearing was almost exact replicas of what his mama used to wear. . .up until she died. Jeremy was only about fifteen when the accident happened. She came home drunk with another man and it was always presumed that one of them fell and knocked over the candles that were burning. The wax spread quickly and soon the whole room was ignited. Neither of them made it out alive. . .only Jeremy who said he had been sleeping in the next room."

"And you're convinced he's behind all of these killings over the years?" Ecklie asked.

"I think it's going to take a lot of therapy to get to the bottom of it, but from what I could gather, the killings started after his mother died. Whether or not she died by his hand is up for grabs at this point. He quickly stepped into his mother's persona and went into a fierce battle with his conscience every time he was with a woman. Between his mother's loose behavior and her over-protectiveness toward him, he had a major conflict going on inside. I'm suspecting things may have gone a little farther with Angie than I had ever believed, but I'm going to hold my opinion on that. We'll let the professionals sort that out. Right now, I'd rather remember Angie as the young beauty who was in love with me, than anything that she could have become." The sheriff gave the men a brief nod then turned back toward the other officers who were milling about.

"Conrad?" Sophia moved up between Ecklie and Grissom, barely noticing Grissom as she slid her hand up a surprised Ecklie's arm. "I've barely had time to thank you for saving my life last night."

"Oh. Well," Ecklie sputtered as he took a step back from her. "I—um—yes, well—you're welcome."

"Oh, but that isn't nearly enough," she said as she started walking after him, keeping pace with his increased speed. "I could take you out to dinner."

"Um—no, thank you. . .this case wore me out. I'd really just like to go home and relax for a few days." He kept walking and kept nervously glancing down at her as she held onto his arm in a more than affectionate fashion.

"Then we won't go out. I'll make dinner for you. I'll rent a movie and we'll just stay in and eat and watch TV and see where the night takes us."

"Uh. . ."

Sara moved to stand next to Grissom as they watched the other two getting into one of the trucks; Ecklie looking extremely frazzled while Sophia was looking completely smitten.

"Ahh," Sara said as she glanced up at Grissom. "Looks like she's all over her infatuation with you. Think you can deal with it?"

"Just so "you're" not over "your" infatuation with me. I'll be fine."

"There still might be a spark or two left in me," she gave him a wry smile.

"You ready for that ride back to town?" He opened the door to the truck and closed it after she got onto the seat. "We can always stop in for something to eat on the way."

"Actually—I'm famished."

He got into his side of the Denali and started the engine. Within two hours, they were pulling into the old diner they had eaten at during the beginning of their journey.

"Well, now," Marg commented as she poured a second cup of coffee for Grissom, this time looking down at Sara. "Looks like a few days in our desert has done you both some good."

"What do you mean?" Sara asked with half a smile.

"Well, that smile, for one. And all the tension is gone from your friend here. I guess you both found what you needed after visiting "ol' Marg" and eating some of her goodies."

"I didn't eat anything when I was here," Sara told her.

"Hmm, coffee and turkey club for the gent, and an unsweetened ice tea for the lady. I remember. It's not uncommon for my diner to initiate the beginnings of what you two found."

"And what would we have found, Marg?" Grissom asked.

"You all found what was inside all along. Just needed some time and space to see it. Sometimes a good meal and clean air makes things clearer. I'm glad I could help ya find it." She gave them an exaggerated wink. "You both come back again, ya hear?"

They both gave her tiny smiles then finished their meals. With full stomachs and plans to work some of those calories off later that night they started down the highway that would lead them back to Vegas. It was only a few seconds after hitting full speed that Grissom looked into his rear-view mirror, his foot coming off the accelerator immediately. He pulled to the side of the road and turned to look at the building they had just vacated, not five minutes earlier.

"Sara?"

Sara turned and looked in the same direction that he was looking only to find a weathered, dust-covered building with broken windows and half of it's porch roof decayed and falling to the ground. Tumbleweeds were blown around the phantom building as the sign that said, "Marg's Diner," hung awkwardly by a single latch from the pole it swung from. What had just been a half-filled parking lot was now empty with no signs of anyone having been there in years.

Sara sat up in bed so quickly that she nearly knocked Grissom out of the other side. She glanced at the foot of their bed where the television was sitting with the frozen picture indicating that the DVD of Psycho had ended and gone back to its original menu.

"That's it!" She breathed loudly as she shook Grissom until he woke up. "No more Hitchcock before bed!"

"Another nightmare, huh?" He chuckled as he reached for his cell phone that was beeping. After a moment he turned back to her. "Well, it looks like our night off is cancelled. Ecklie called with a case for us."

Sara sighed deeply as she got up from the bed and watched as Grissom did the same. "Where is it?"

"Actually, we're in for a mini-vacation. It's in the desert. A four-hour drive. . ."

THE END (sort of)

A/N: I hope you enjoyed our little four-hour drive into the desert with our favorite group of people. For those of you who like Sophia Curtis, I apologize. She was just so damned fun to write for as the dizzy blonde victim. In reality, I don't really hate her (once she gets past trying to come between our Sara and Gilbert, of course). I've had fun with it—I hope you did too.


End file.
